


Sharpe's Scoundrel

by terma_archivist



Category: Sharpe (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-01
Updated: 1999-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').
Relationships: Alex Krycek/Richard Sharpe
Kudos: 1
Collections: TER/MA





	1. A little training diversion

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> Plot, what's a plot... This crossover is set during one of the many training sessions that my version of Alex Krycek took during his younger days. It's a brief mind-clearing change of pace from the ambush sequence I'm struggling through right now. Jim doesn't want me to slash Sharpe with Krycek in 'La Princesa Guerrera' because it would be out of character (he's right) and I don't want to mess up my already too-shallow Alex Krycek/Once a Thief stuff with something this frivolous. Therefore it has to go off and sit in a corner all alone. Also, I've never tried NC-17 before and I think I still need a lot more practice.

  
**Part I  
A little training diversion**

  
Richard Sharpe had never taken an easy path. No one had ever shown him such a route. Ever since he was a kid he'd had to work hard and scrap harder to earn everything from a decent toy in the Christmas charity box to the right to walk down his own street unmolested. He had learned to take what he wanted then hold tight against all comers. His basic military training confirmed his worldview, as did his uphill struggle to be accepted as a special ops candidate. 

No one ever stood exactly level with another man. That was just the way things were. Every one of his instructors could be slotted into a complex command structure. It was only natural for Richard to examine every one of his co-trainees and rank them in much the same fashion. It had only taken two days of testing, pushing and careful interaction to discover that none of the young men in his class were his equal. Admittedly they were all smart, fast and dedicated but the hunger didn't burn like a shuttered flame inside any of them. Every single one had symbolically bared his throat to the fierce blonde leader and stepped back a comfortable distance. They wanted to be the best and brightest. Richard Sharpe NEEDED to be first among the best. 

Genuine competition had come only under the most improbable of circumstances. It was unheard of for someone to join up a week into the complex training session. It threw off the entire system confounding the instructors and the trainees alike. That the kid could do such a thing with a smug smile and amused eyes infuriated everyone. The kid was given no catch-up instructions but they expected perfection. On the obstacle course, the artillery field and in the classrooms they circled like sharks looking for a weakness only to be met with confident perfection in all things. In the beginning the other trainees resentfully ignored the newcomer whenever possible but he seemed blissfully unconcerned at the exclusion. 

It didn't take long at all for Richard Sharpe to come to the conclusion that he hated Alexander Andrews. He hated that the kid was years younger than everyone else in the sequestered band of soldiers was. He hated that Andrews' slick black hair was skirting the edge of being too long but none of the officers seemed to notice. He was absolutely furious that the newcomer was breezing through deskwork and theory while Richard had to struggle to master the blasted stuff. He couldn't even get back at the bastard during field exercises either. The kid matched every record Sharpe drove himself into achieving. Andrews assembled bombs, reassembled machine guns and ran the kilometre just as quickly as Richard. 

Worst of all was the one avenue the kid outshone Richard in. Within two weeks of his arrival Andrews quickly graduated from the 'disruptive outsider' into teacher's pet and everybody's number one choice to sit with in mess hall. Richard didn't even know how to begin with that kind of social interaction. His previous manner, heavy northern accent and taciturn personality were massive barriers. Andrews, by contrast, had only the lightest lilt of an Irish accent. His soft-spoken style invited the other person to share their life's story and he displayed a self-deprecating streak that seemed to be compensating nicely for the fact that the kid was so damned good at everything. 

If all that weren't enough, the bastard was gorgeous. As much as it galled Richard to admit to noticing it, Alexander Andrews was 'why aren't you on a billboard?' drop-dead beautiful. He wasn't military recruiting poster handsome so much as a pretty-boy model from a magazine that belonged under the mattress. If the regulations weren't so rigid in the corps at least half the teaching staff would have put the moves on Andrews by now. The mood inspired by those same regulations and the overwhelming sense of being under constant surveillance kept the trainees from acting on impulses concerning the newcomer as well. It wasn't like they had much free time for that sort of thing anyway. 

When they were allowed personal time, like on Sundays, every one of them choose to spend it making an extra effort on their weakest areas. Considering the small base was in the middle of sheep country with nothing closer than an hour's car trip it only made sense for the stranded trainees to keep at their demanding curriculum. 

Sunday usually found Richard wrestling with a pile of thick textbooks in a corner of the empty library. He got on all right with practical things like instructions on reading blueprints or geography... and history was actually kind of interesting. What refused to take root were ethics, law and things like judging acceptable versus unacceptable losses. They had such an intangible elusiveness. 

Deep in contemplation of the rights of her Majesty's agents in other countries Richard didn't pay any mind to the library door opening and closing. It wasn't until someone leaned over his shoulder to peer at the book he held that Richard bothered to check who had joined him in the silent room. 

"That's deadly dry reading, Sharpe." Alexander Andrews murmured right at the other man's ear. "You'd do better to find out how to avoid foreign authorities altogether." A throaty chuckle was offered like a secret. "Of course I doubt we've a textbook on that." 

Richard shifted sideways to glare up at the intruder. He was not in the mood to deal with that too-perfect bastard during what little time he could call his own. "I'm busy." Sharpe kept the statement brief and blunt while he glowered up at Andrews. 

"It's Sunday." Alexander's hand reached up to rub his nose leaving a smudge of wet dirt behind. "It's a beautiful day outside." He grinned. "And I just beat your time on the back field course. Cooper stood witness for me... though he's gone in for tea. Standing out there he got a bit cool." Andrew's, by contrast, was still damp with sweat. His bangs were almost dangling into his eyes. 

The two young men exchanged challenging stares. Alexander's eyes glinted bright green with mischief. Richard's smouldered darkly with barely contained resentment. 

"What the bloody hell do you want from me, Andrews?" His mouth was a harsh line. 

"I'm ever so bored." Came the unlikely announcement. "None of this is a challenge. Not the instructors, not the work, not even... " He didn't finish the sentence but instead his head cocked to one side. "You, Richard Sharpe, appear to be the only challenge here." 

Richard had a sudden urge to smack the amused smile right off the other man's face. Special ops was everything that Sharpe wanted. It was the fast track route to money, respect and control over his own destiny. "Are you insane?" 

"No. Not technically." Andrews' head shook. "I'm hyped up... absolutely flush with adrenaline." He laughed at some internal jest. "I just wrenched my knee coming off the last net wall after breaking the camp record on the wretched thing and it hurts like hell. I'm practically stranded in the middle of nowhere. I miss my family. I'm bored out of my tree and I haven't gotten laid in a fortnight. That's a record for me." He expounded. "So I've been seriously hoping for a brawl to bleed off a little frustration but you're simply not obliging me no matter how much I've pissed you off during the last week." 

Richard's pale brows pulled together and down above the line of his nose increasing their usual arch even more. "You're right daft. Do you realise what kind of trouble we would get into if they caught us brawling? You ain't worth it." 

"I beg to differ." Alexander shifted to lean over the older man once more. He bent down, invading the blonde's personal space. "You are the most tightly strung man I've met in years." He announced out of nowhere. "Tell me Sharpe... what's the sense in being good at something if you don't get a scrap of enjoyment out of the achievement?" The younger man pursed his lips. 

Richard's normal reaction to a man pulling a manoeuvre like this on him would be to give the guy a quick shove backward but for some strange reason he didn't want to push this one away. "We ain't here to have fun Andrews." 

"All the more reason to invent our own amusements." His voice dropped to a gravely whisper. "So you don't want to fight with me. All right." The distance between their faces closed to a bare inch. The kid's lips were almost touching Richard's. "How would you feel about some completely mind-blowing sex on this table?" Reaching around Sharpe, Alexander tapped the solid wood below the stacked books. They were breathing in each other's air now. 

Sweat, grime and attempted intimidation did not make for a combination Richard usually went for. When given a choice he normally sought out full figured, perfumed ladies to lay down on soft sheets but right now his body was making it's own decision. Suddenly a lean, athletic male body, a snub, dirt-covered nose and glittering feral green eyes seemed like a nice package indeed. "Listen Andrews..." 

"Xander... or Alex. Xander I think would be better just now. I'd like to hear your accent wrap around that name." The other murmured in Richard's ear before dragging his parted mouth forward along the line of the seated man's jaw. "I like to hear you groan that name out as you come." 

"Jeez Christ." Richard hissed. The kid's face was smooth from a recent shave, which was nice since he wasn't trying for a kiss so much as rubbing himself, like a cat, against Sharpe. Richard meant to voice an objection then a warm, delicious weight settled onto his lap. As Alexander straddled him the vague twitch of interest Richard had felt swelled to full on arousal. With perfect precision the cleft of the kid's ass settled right on his growing erection. "The door?" It wasn't the most intelligently phrased question he'd ever asked but Alexander seemed to understand. 

"I locked it behind me." The younger man squirmed slightly. "What do you like, Richard? I know lots of remarkable tricks." One hand lifted and his fingers threaded absently back through fine blonde hair. The other traced down Sharpe's sideburn, across his right cheekbone then down his stubbled jaw. 

"Don't fuss on me." The delicate caress was batted away. "I don't want any romantic crap from you. I don't even like you Andrews." 

Rather than offence, the statement earned a dark smoky chuckle. "So... that's a yes to a little down and dirty fucking and a no to meeting my Mum for Sunday dinner. I can deal." Alexander slid slowly backwards and off Sharpe's lap. He then gingerly eased the older man's legs apart and settled to his knees between them. Hands kneaded hard muscles through drab fabric. Gradually his face dropped to press into Richard's crotch and he inhaled deeply with a groan of pleasure. "I love this smell." 

"Get on with it." When Sharpe reached for his own zipper the younger man's mouth opened and teeth threatened the taunt material. 

"Do not... " the possible bite turned into a delicate, damp mouthing. "... rush me. DICK." 

"Don't." Richard grabbed a handful of slick inky hair and, using all his willpower, he tipped that face up and away from his groin. "Don't you get cute with me, Kid." 

"Xander." Alexander corrected playfully despite how much his scalp had to be hurting. "Call me Xander if you want me to blow you." Fingers plucked encouragingly at the button above Richard's fly. 

"Xander." Sharpe repeated after a pause. His grip eased. 

"Thank you." Alexander flicked open the fastening and eased the zipper down. He didn't watch what he was doing, choosing instead to study the clean lines of his partner's face. 

The effect of those too wide eyes gazing up through thick black lashes was disturbing. Richard turned his own gaze on the distant door. 

"Watch me, damn it." The harsh demand came just as strong fingers peeled away the fabric of his pants and brushed Richard's cock through one whisper thin layer of cotton. "I won't be just an anonymous wet hole for you. Look at me or I'll stop." His tone lightened. "I perform so much better for an audience." Damp heat suckled through the front of Richard's underwear, soaking it. 

His hips bucked involuntarily and Sharpe slouched on the hard wooden chair, sliding a bit closer to the edge to earn more contact. He dragged his eyes back to the other man's face. "Xander." 

Andrews' smile widened wickedly at the acknowledgement and he very carefully scraped the edges of his teeth along the outline of Richard's cockhead. 

"Shite!" Sharpe's lips pulled back into a grimace but he continued to stare down at his tormentor. "Get on with it already." The rumbled words were too eager to be the order he had intended. There was no way the intense heat pushing against his trapped erection was normal. The kid had to be running a fever or something. 

"Lift." Alexander's fingers were yanking at the bundled fabric across Richard's hips. One abrupt tug pulled his trousers and underwear down as soon as the older man obliged. They were frantically shoved down to just below Richard's knees then Alexander lost interest in moving them any further. His palms skated up the outside of Richard's long legs, ran quickly across narrow hips, then pushed up under the older man's shirt. 

Richard flinched when one of his vast assortment of bruises was touched but he didn't protest. It was heady, the way the kid's fingertips seemed to be almost worshipping the skin they traced across. Besides which, Andrews' greedy mouth wasn't far behind his hands. Richard groaned as his newly freed cock was bypassed completely. "What the fuck are you doing, Andrews?" Sharpe demanded impatiently. 

"I'll get you off, Handsome. Don't worry." Alexander hovered, not quite sitting across Sharpe's bared upper legs. 

"We're in the bloody library." Richard reminded the kid as fingers now began unbuttoning his shirtfront. "We don't have time for a big production." 

"This isn't a big production." Alexander finished with the buttons. His hands brushed over Sharpe's shoulders pushing it off and half way down his back. "If you're still interested when we graduate from this cakewalk." He nipped at Richard's jaw. "I'll take you to a hotel I know of in London with beds the size of football fields." His body was lowering again, at last. "I could happily spend two hours licking chocolate sauce from every crease of your body." Alex silenced as his lips finally touched Richard's straining erection. 

Sharpe had to struggle slightly against his sleeves in order to curve one hand around the back of the kid's skull. It wasn't until the first flush of sensory pleasure faded that he realised that Alexander was barely making contact. The kid's tongue was painting him with tiny kitten swipes. "Will you quit fucking around." Sharpe pressed for more and felt the threat of teeth once again. It was excruciating how slowly Xander progressed. First the tongue-lashing increased in breadth and eagerness... then when Richard was ready to scream in frustration the kid's mouth closed over the leaking head. Sharpe's hips jerked fitfully forward but Alexander's weight held him from achieving much movement. The slide in was tormenting but eventually, much to Richard's surprise, Alex took him all the way down into his throat. Sharpe bit down on his bottom lip to keep the wrenching moans the action caused from growing too loud. Didn't it just figure that the bastard was too good to be true at this as well? Just a few long glides into that clinging heat had him right on the edge. Arctic cold stopped the orgasm tickling at the base of his balls. 

The kid had the nerve to sit back on his heels and smirk up at Sharpe. Richard made a clumsy grab that Alexander eluded by lifting and leaning in towards his victim. "Trust me." The kid caught at the older man's sagging collar, pushing the shirt even further back off his shoulders. With fingers still scrabbling at the back of the garment, Alexander set to mapping out the blonde's ears and throat with sucking kisses. His aim finally became clear as the material of Richard's shirt pulled tight. Alex looped the shirt over the back of the chair Sharpe was sitting on... loosely restraining Richard's still sleeved arms. 

The older man's body tensed, preparing to pull free of the binding but the kid's fingers were swift to make soothing flutters across the tight shoulders. "Easy. I'm not going to do anything you won't like. Its just part of the game." Alexander slipped back down to the floor. He nuzzled apologetically, pushing up Sharpe's T-shirt so he could rim out his shallow belly button. 

Richard tugged experimentally at the bindings and decided that they wouldn't hold against any serious effort to escape. So all the kid wanted him to do was simply sit there and be ravished. It was oddly erotic; something he'd never had the time, patience or the partner for in the past. If only they weren't in the bloody base library with nothing but a twenty-year-old latch guarding their privacy. Still, the danger inherent in the situation had its appeal as well. Lord, but the kid was orally fixated. He was shoving his tongue into spots Richard wasn't even sure he washed on a regular basis. Sharpe realised that he'd slouched even more and Andrews was subtly tipping his hips upward. Richard felt an uncontrollable shudder as the intimate probing edged deeper back and into the crevice of his ass. A part of his brain was demanding that he protest the intrusion but it felt so incredibly good. If his ankles weren't hobbled by his pants Sharpe would be tempted to raise his legs and wrap them around the back of the kid's neck to pull him in even tighter. "Shite... Xander... " Richard jerked in surprise as the tongue penetrated him the moment after he voiced the younger man's name. A reward, his sluggish brain provided, do it again and see what happens. "Xander." 

The kid groaned happily sending vibrations right into Richard's core. 

Oh yeah, those were stars he was seeing right now. Just when he'd gathered enough brain-cells together to wonder what had happened to the younger man's hands... they returned to sent another jolt of pleasure through him. Alexander's thumb began flickering over the tip of Sharpe's weeping cock spreading the moisture down and around the stiff flesh. The kid's incredible mouth disappeared for a brief flash and Richard heard him spit but before the action could be questioned it was back slathering the older man's erection with saliva. 

"Don't come. Not yet." Alex pulled away with a pleading whisper and started to stand. 

"No!" Richard tried to lunge forward, forgetting about the impromptu bondage he was restrained with and the chair creaked. "Bastard!" He hissed. 

"Easy down, me darling." The kid pushed at Sharpe's chest and lifted his leg to straddle the seated man. 

When the hell had Andrews slipped out of his own pants, Richard wondered, as warm, naked skin touched his own? 

"Spit." Alexander held his hand flat before Sharpe's face. "I don't have any lube." He explained solemnly, holding Richard's stare. As soon as his hand was wet the kid reached down and slicked the blonde's cock up even more. Alex rose just slightly and wiggled until the tip of Richard's rod was flush against his hole. He sucked in a deep breath and began to sink down, exhaling slowly. "I've missed this." His voice trembled and a squeak escaped as they pushed flush against each other. "It's been too damn long." Carefully keeping his seat, Alexander's arms reached down to yank both his shirts over his head in one burst of motion. Dog tags clattered back down against an almost hairless chest. 

"Move, Xander. You've got to move." Richard whispered encouragement; his hips were attempting to buck despite the weight holding them down. 

"Talk to me." Alexander's legs bunched and raised him up a few bare inches. "Lie to me. Say anything. I won't hold you to it. Tell me you like this. Christ, but you got such a deadly sexy voice." He dropped back down with a shiver of pleasure. His head fell back exposing his throat. 

"It's good. You've such a sweet, tight... gorgeous arse." Sharpe floundered, simply groaning his appreciation. Talk, the kid wanted the impossible. The exquisite heat and pressure were pulling all the blood away from his brain and nothing coherent could possibly survive it. "I can't believe you're doing this." Richard managed to say before another devastating rise and fall disrupted him. 

One of Alexander's arms rested on Sharpe's bared shoulder. Fingers wove into the blonde hair at the nape of his neck, tugging for attention. "I want YOU to kiss ME, please." 

It seemed an almost absurdly elementary request considering that Richard had his cock buried in the kid's ass until gradually the exact wording chipped it's way into Richard's mind. Alexander's beautifully strained face was right there before him, waiting, but Sharpe would have to be the one to close the distance. Thinking made it even more difficult. He knew where that tongue had been just a short time ago. Richard made himself move before he could have second thoughts. He offered a simple pressing of lips, trying to get the measure of kissing another man. Sharpe had screwed around with a few guys in his time but kissing had never been much of a factor. 

Alexander undulated instead of pumping himself. The movement was followed by a faint breathy cry of pleasure that parted Alex's lips in silent invitation. 

"You want more?" Richard bargained, surprising himself by managing to assemble the bargain and the words to voice it. "Earn it, bitch. Fuck yourself on me, Xander. Get me off if you want a proper kiss." He meant to sound vicious but it came off as vaguely desperate to his own ears. 

Alexander's teeth briefly bared in a snarl then he arched into movement. His body rocked sinuously up and down. For the first time during the encounter those glittering eyes drifted shut. The fingers behind Richard's neck dug in tightly and the kid's other hand lifted to harshly pinch his own nipples. 

It amazed Sharpe that the sight actually kicked his arousal up another few notches. He watched the kid's blunt nails drag down, leaving faint red streaks in their wake. Struggling with the tight squeeze between their bodies Alex shoved his hand under Sharpe's sweat-clinging T-shirt and began snaking it up. Against his thighs Richard felt the muscles in Alexander's legs flex and the friction inside the kid's body increased to an almost painful intensity. 

A strangled moan that might have been anything from despair to rapture broke from the younger man's throat and his body spasmed fiercely. Between the burning wet heat hitting his stomach and the convulsions the kid went into Richard was dragged right after him into the maelstrom of orgasm. The makeshift restraints were no match for the sensation and Sharpe's arms tore loose from his tight-buttoned cuffs. As interesting as the half-hearted bondage had been... running his hands up the kid's sweaty spine felt wonderful. How could someone who had first run an obstacle course and then gone through all this still smell so enticing? 

Richard pulled the still shivering body tight against him and levered Alex's mouth into place for searching kiss. The kid yielded so sweetly, clinging and making soft gasping noises. He tasted good too, if a little salty from sweat he had licked off of Richard's throat and shoulders. Sharpe gave himself up to the greedy sucking of Alexander's lips for a few minutes then carefully broke off the kiss to look at the other's flushed face. "That was... umm... fun." 

One dark brow lifted slightly. "Fun? Yeah, I suppose." A corner of Alex's mouth quirked. "But if you ever call me 'bitch' again... I'll cut your balls off and feed them to you." His ass briefly tightened in a sudden painful pinch. "Got that DICK?" 

"Yeah." Sharpe winced. "I don't call you bitch. You don't call me Dick. Fair 'nough?" 

"How about Dickin?" Alexander eased up and off. "Richard is simply altogether too stuffy and I refuse to call a lover by his last name... that's just ridiculous." 

"I'm not your lover." Sharpe pushed the younger man backward so he could reach for his crumpled trousers. "This was a passing fancy." 

The kid heaved a sigh and grabbed after his own clothes. "You go ahead and tell yourself that Dickin, me lovely." His lip curled at the grimy state of his gear before he began pulling it back on. "But when you change your mind... " His eyes sparkled. "I'm willing to play again, maybe on the artillery range. I've always thought tumbling in the grass under the stars... whatever." He trailed off under the force of Sharpe's frosty glare and concentrated on getting dressed again. His shirts were inside out and one tangled in the other. 

Sharpe sacrificed his own T-shirt to the task of cleaning himself off. He'd rinse it out in the bathroom sink later. Narrowed eyes tried to covertly study the young man beside him and find a sense of rationalism in this bizarre rendezvous. Yes, the kid was attractive and he'd offered himself up in such a way as to short circuit all of Richard's hesitations but didn't he dislike the little bastard rather intensely? 

"Oh come on." Alexander seemed to be reading the blonde's mind but he was more likely picking up Richard's thoughts from his sour expression. "It's not that bad. I'm actually quite pleasant to be around most of the time. I was being obnoxious simply to provoke you." Came the explanation. "How about we try simply eating at the same table tonight? I'll do my best to be charming but you're free to ignore me completely. If we don't end up in a fist-fight by the end of the meal we'll try something a bit more friendly?" Alex smiled hopefully. "Please." 

"I don't like you." Sharpe stated, wanting to make his position clear from the onset. 

"You don't know enough about me to dislike me properly. You're just in a pissy mood because I'm something near competition in this little war-game grade school. Look at it this way Dickin, me darlin'... if you fuck me into a coma on a semi-regular basis my scores are bound to suffer and you'll be number one again. How's that for incentive?" 

"Don't call me Dickin. It's silly." Richard protested, but he realised he didn't sound very convincing. "I'll eat dinner with you but I reserve the right to bash your nose in if you get on my nerves." It was such a ridiculously small nose for a soldier; the thing could only benefit from a break or two. 

"You're not going to regret this, Dickin." Alexander promised. "At least not for a few years I hope." He added wistfully and headed out of the room. 

Richard considered sitting back down and returning to the studies that the kid had interrupted but that kind of concentration was completely beyond him right now. What he needed was a shower and a change of clothes. Sharpe lingered long enough to move the chair he had been sitting on right next to the window and cracking it open then he followed in Alexander's footsteps, wondering vaguely if the kid was going to get cleaned up too... and kicking himself every other step for that very thought. 

* * *

So, whacha think, can I write NC-17 or should I go back to R. Sigh. 

Oh, and just for reference sake for the people who don't want to be bothered with reading the entire story that the letter reference was in but are curious... I did give the impression that Alex and Sharpe had a series of fleeting but rather torrid encounters over the next few years before something nasty happened to separate them... Krycek is after all an international criminal and Sharpe is British special ops... it just couldn't last. 

Okay, milk and cookies time. 

Date: August 1999   
Email—yes please, [email removed]   
Other websites—[broken link removed]   
Rating: Carla Jane attempts to write a NC-17 pwp, oh my goodness  
Notes: Plot, what's a plot... This crossover is set during one of the many training sessions that my version of Alex Krycek took during his younger days. It's a brief mind-clearing change of pace from the ambush sequence I'm struggling through right now. Jim doesn't want me to slash Sharpe with Krycek in 'La Princesa Guerrera' because it would be out of character (he's right) and I don't want to mess up my already too-shallow Alex Krycek/Once a Thief stuff with something this frivolous. Therefore it has to go off and sit in a corner all alone. Also, I've never tried NC-17 before and I think I still need a lot more practice.  
Disclaimers: Chris Carter, Fox, Bernard Cornwell, and the various actors, writers and producers own everything. I'm not gaining any profit from this... just a bit of twisted amusement.   
Summary: It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').   
Big sigh...I mean a soldier from the Napoleonic wars isn't likely to run across darling Alex any other way which is a shame since Sean Bean and Nick Lea would make such a cute couple. This sprouted from a passing mention in my OaT/Alex story 'Meet the family' during which Mac (Alex's lover) found a few old letters from Sharpe to Krycek.   
---


	2. Playing in Puddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').

**Part II  
Playing in Puddles**

  
It was amazing the difference that just a few weeks could make. A mail call in the barracks during the first couple weeks of training used to be an annoying ritual. Letters and packages would be handed out to almost all the men. Those few who didn't receive anything would be drawn to those who did and everyone would be sharing treats or stories from home. Everyone except Richard Sharpe, of course. The default leader of the group never received so much as a note. He had no family left and his casual friends weren't of the sort to be sending him letters. Having distanced himself from his classmates by skill and manner Richard wasn't invited into the shared warmth of the other soldiers' parcels either. At least that had been the situation over the first month. Then Alexander Andrews had taken it upon himself to completely alter the group's dynamic. 

The campaign had started so deviously that Richard hadn't realised at first exactly what was happening. It was startling enough that Andrews had wanted a sexual relationship and begun their clandestine affair on what seemed like whim. It was another thing entirely to suck Richard gradually into the everyday social interactions of the company of trainees. 

Alexander Andrews was an absolute magnet. Everyone wanted to be around the kid...in class, in mess hall and in practical exercises. Alexander, however, went out of his way to linger in Richard's shadow. Richard Sharpe picked up a following by default but he held them on his own merit. It simply took a little exposure and a few strategic pushes from Alexander for the rest of the group to see past Sharpe's reserved personality. The quiet blonde had a wealth of honour and integrity. He honestly deserved his unofficial position as their leader. 

Still, sometimes his new popularity was more bother than it was worth. The companionship had grown almost claustrophobic this evening. Richard simply had to escape the surfeit of good fellowship. That's why he found himself standing out in the darkness of the base firing range soaked to the skin by the rain. The evening around him had refreshingly still quality. Weather and distance muted most of the sounds and lights from the camp. 

A faint splash of water that could have been any number of things was all the warning Richard got. Solid weight tackled him at the waist knocking him forward into the mud. Adrenaline kicked in and Sharpe turned on his attacker with a snarl. With the kid making only a minimal effort at putting up a defence Richard quickly found himself straddling Alexander Andrews. The young man lay flat in a half inch of cold water grinning up at the winner of their impromptu wrestling match. 

"Bloody fool." Sharpe snapped, resisting the urge to shake the other until his teeth rattled. "Yer gonna get one of us killed fucking around like that." 

"I trust you Dickin, me Darlin." Alexander lay quietly, not provoking any further violence. 

"What do you want, Xander?" Richard considered climbing off Andrews but the indecent heat of the prone body was seductive in the chill drizzle of the night. "I came out here for some privacy." 

"You had privacy." Fingers reached up to twist into the fabric of Sharpe's soaked jacket. "It wasn't making you happy. I'm what you want." Alex announced arrogantly. His hips tipped up to dig into his lover. "Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting on me. You would've walked away by now, me Darlin." 

"I'm sitting on you to keep you in yer place." Richard swatted Andrew's clutching hand away. "You belong under me. I'm your better, Kid." 

"You top me 'cause I let you, Dickin. Don't get it into your lovely head that there's any other reason you're able to best me on the field or in the classroom." Alexander squirmed slightly. "However we've your tender ego to consider, don't we me Lover?" 

"What a load of crap." Richard pressed his weight harder, laying a hand on the younger man's chest to emphasise his point. "I come out first every time." 

"I let you win, me Darlin." He teased. "I've simply no reason to try and take first place away from you Handsome... not so long as you're giving me what I need." 

"You couldn't take me if you tried, Kid." Richard persisted. He was, after all, perched atop the other. 

"Bet me." Alexander's husky whisper was thick with excitement and his eyes glittered in the dull moonlight. "Promise me a forfeit and I'll pin you right now." He boasted. 

Sharpe's head cocked to one side as he studied the smirk aimed at him. As much as he'd like to think that the brat was simply blowing smoke the first two weeks of Andrew's participation in the training course came to mind. The kid had been stiff competition. "What kind of forfeit?" Richard wanted to know if Alexander was pulling his punches but not at an unreasonable cost. 

The smirk expanded to an absolutely evil leer. Alexander reached, threading his fingers together behind Richard's neck and dragging his lover down on top of him. "I want to fuck you Dickin." He arched, seeking more contact. "If I can take you in a fair fight will you let me do you?" 

Sharpe resisted the pull downward but he didn't break away. They hadn't even discussed the possibility of reversing their usual roles before this. Up to now their longer encounters had almost always ended with Alexander being screwed no matter the preliminaries they indulged in. Their quickies tended to be a bit more equal opportunity. "I haven't done that in a long time." Richard finally responded. "And I didn't much like it back then." So many power issues were tangled into the act. Hinging consent on the results of a bet only compounded the situation. 

"Come on Dickin. It's a win-win situation. You find out if I'm faking... and even if I take you... " Alexander coaxed, flicking the tip of his tongue across his teeth. "I'll rim you out so well, Dickin Lover, by the time I slip in you'll be spreading your legs and hungry for it." 

"Shut up." Richard snapped, pressing down harder. 

The younger man let out an encouraging groan response to the maltreatment. "What will you do, Dickin? Hit me? Hold me down and slap me stupid? As much as I'd like , you can't, unless I let you." 

"Lying sod." The accusation wasn't forceful. 

"Bet me and find out." Alexander dared. His body was writhing under Sharpe's in a blatantly lascivious come-on. "I'll give you anything you want if you win. Anything." His tone was thick with desire. "Tell me what you want, Gorgeous." 

Richard puffed out a disgusted breath and climbed off the younger man. "I want a woman." Take that, Sharpe thought, attempting to gain control. It disturbed Richard that Andrews, a trained soldier and grown man, was proving almost sluttish in his desires but what bothered him even more than the kid's whore-like attitude was that Alexander's fawning attentions seemed to arouse Sharpe more every time they clashed. 

Alex sat up, heedless of the muddy water running down his back. "I can do that." He announced brightly. "I can get you a woman as a forfeit if I lose." Black bangs were shoved back out of wide green eyes. 

"Yer full of crap." The elder turned to walk away. When had this ridiculous association escaped his control? He feared the loss had come within moments of their first tryst. 

Alexander surged to his feet and seized his lover's arm. "I can do it. I can get you our ethics instructor. I swear to God. She's been hitting on me since I first got here." He blurted out. "When I kept turning her down she switched to offering me whatever kink I wanted. I could ask for a threesome... or the chance to watch you do her, although I'd prefer the first myself." Dark brows lifted inquisitively. "What's the matter, Handsome? Don't you think you can handle me in a fight?" 

Richard didn't give the other man a chance to prepare himself but instead he whirled into an attack, toppling Alexander back down into the cold mud. He hoped to pin the smart-mouthed brat quickly just to shut him up. 

Alex, slippery with muck, eeled out of Sharpe's grip and backwards two feet. "So do we have a bet, me Darlin?" He persisted. 

Richard inched closer only to have his opponent back the same distance away. "Yeah, okay, you little bastard." Sharpe grabbed again and got a satisfying handful of jacket, which Alexander promptly squirmed out of. 

The wrestling match that ensued surprised Richard on a number of levels. He had no idea that Alex was proficient at so many dirty tricks. The younger man had a counter for every nasty, street-learned tactic that Sharpe's hard childhood had taught him. Even more annoying was the fact that Alexander's feral smile barely wavered despite mouthfuls of mud and the breath that Richard was attempting to knock out of him. The kid seemed to delight in the gutter-level brawl as much as did in their bouts of careless sex. A solid backhand across Alex's face earned a noise frighteningly similar to a groan of erotic pleasure. 

"Pervert!" Richard accused between gasps for air. He was tiring fast due to struggling in the sucking mud. Too quickly Sharpe found himself fighting a defensive strategy at the lowest level, grabbing at the kid's hair and attempting to use his slightly heavier frame to overpower Andrews. Luckily the kid was a few years his junior and didn't have his full growth yet or even that wouldn't work. Alexander's body type suggested he was eventually going to age into thicker set man than Richard was. 

He didn't even recognise the pattern of attack that Andrews was using. It was nothing the younger man could have learned in the British armed forces but there was a definite technique to the movements. 

Ten minutes later Alexander was sitting on the small of Richard's back hitching the blonde's arm up to the edge of breaking it. "I win Dickin, me lovely." Alex purred, twisting his lover's arm once for emphasis. His Irish accent, which tended to fluctuate in strength depending on his mood, was at its lowest ebb on the next few words. "I've been fantasising about this." Alexander released his hold and his body slid flat to spread delicious heat all along Richard's back. Sharpe's collar was yanked down and burning kisses were pressed to his nape as if the skin wasn't smeared with a thin layer of mud. "I want you so bad it keeps me awake nights." Mumbled out. 

"No way. You can't be meaning to do this now. Here." Richard turned his mouth to keep it out of a puddle. "Shite Xander. We're filthy. I'm soaked. We'll freeze our balls off." 

"The rain isn't that cold." Alexander climbed to his feet, pulling the older man up after him. "It'll wash us." 

Richard stood still against the light tug on his shoulder so the kid simply moved around him until they stood face to face. Alex kissed his lips first then moved to Richard's cheeks, nose and ears when the blonde refused to open his mouth. During the course of the brief affair the younger man was constantly pushing for signs of affection. He was like a love-starved teenager, Sharpe thought harshly, trying to fan his own hostility even higher. No male he'd been with before had ever wanted kisses and hugs like this one. What really bothered Richard about the quirk was each time they clashed those secondary touches became not only easier to give but there was also a unique pleasure in them. 

"Stubborn son of a bitch." Andrews accused. "I know if I don't take my prize now you'll find some excuse to deny me." Hands slid around the elder man, pulling their bodies together. "You don't understand me, Dickin. I don't want to hurt or humiliate you." Sharp teeth brushed across Richard's ear. "I want you to like it so much you'll be willing to do it again and again. This isn't about power. It's about pleasure." Alexander's erection dug into Sharpe's hip. His breath was hot and rasping. "Mercy Dickin. When you're fucking me it feels so good that sometimes I think I'll die from the bliss of it. I want to give you that sensation back again." 

"You're a liar." Sharpe repeated his earlier accusation. 

"Yeah, I suppose I am, but not about this." Alex pressed gently to make his partner back up. One of his hands ran absent circles over Richard's upper chest. "I've experience enough." Alexander actually sounded a bit despondent as he said that but his tone immediately brightened. "You are the first man I've ever been with that I've chosen for the sheer physical gratification of touching your body... to have YOU touching ME with no other motive than that is such a heady rush, Dickin, handsome, strong Dickin." They continued to slowly move until Sharpe's back hit a net of camouflage. Alexander seemed intent on keeping only the minimal amount of space between their bodies. He stole another kiss, pressing for an extended open-mouthed exploration that only broke off when Richard turned his face to one side. 

"Don't. It's too cold tonight." Sharpe swatted away the fingers pulling at his jacket zipper. 

"Wimp." Alexander accused. "Just half-way." His mouth pressed to the little bit of skin he could reach by pulling the neckline of Richard's clothing down. Teeth threatened but he knew better than to bite and leave a mark. "I'll keep you warm." Their fully clothed bodies rubbed together as Alex's knees bent and straightened. Alex's hand dropped and the palm pressed to Richard's erection, massaging it into growing even harder. "As much as I adore this lovely package." His voice took on the honeyed gravel quality that cut Sharpe to the core. Alexander's fingers skidded back and forth across a olive-drab covered hip. "Another part of you deserves some worship as well, Darlin." The younger man allowed a narrow distance to form between them. "Turn around Dickin. I swear by all that's holy, you're gonna love this." 

Even as Sharpe's head shook in denial his body gave into the subtle push Andrews was using and turned to face the tattered camouflage netting. So far every time Alex had lapsed into that breathy, barely accented tone Richard had completely enjoyed whatever activity followed. 

Alexander's mouth pressed to the skin just behind Richard's left ear. "Grab a couple handfuls of net, Dickin, then close your eyes and just feel." Alex's breath was blistering. His arms reached around to allow his fingers to skate across Sharpe's ribs, stomach and chest. He pressed hard to make sure his lover experienced every caress. "You are such a fine piece of work, me Darlin. Lean and strong." Alexander nibbled at Richard's ear. "I can't be thinking of a living soul that I'd rather be laying hands on." His body rocked sensuously against the blonde's back blanketing away the chill that the sopping wet clothes had provoked. "Even watching you strip and clean a rifle gets me hard. You fuck like a dream." One hand reached down to cup Richard's growing erection once more, coaxing. "I adore your cock." 

"Key-rist, Xander. You've got a mouth like a whore." The complaint lacked sincerity since Sharpe was bucking into the kid's hand as he voiced it. 

"The taste of it." Alexander continued. "The feel of it... in my hand... inside me." He was practically purring. As he spoke Alex expertly flicked open the button then the fly on Sharpe's trousers. "Every time you shove this beauty into me I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming out how much I love it." Cool fingers encircled Richard's cock. "And it's so fucking big." 

"Jesus!" The older man shuddered. "The way you talk... " 

"No, the way you talk." Alexander countered. He was peeling wet fabric away with a slow, steady pull. "I wish you would talk more while you're fucking me. I adore the sound of your voice, Dickin. It's like somebody pouring warm oil down my back. It gives me the shivers and feels so good." The whispered declarations trailed off as Alex sank, dragging his body down Sharpe's spine. 

Richard stifled a protest. It wouldn't do for the brat to realise how seductive Richard found the breathless proclamations of desire. For that matter it wouldn't do for the kid to clue into how thoroughly he had the older man entrapped. Alexander's mouth had finally reached another patch of bared skin. He nuzzled at the base of Sharpe's spine. The heat of his mouth was a remarkable contrast to the chill of Alex's nose and the air about them. Richard thought the kid might still be talking by the feel of vibrations against his tailbone but he, regretfully, couldn't hear the words. Without even thinking about what he was doing Sharpe followed Alexander's suggestion. In the darkness behind closed eyes it was impossible not to completely appreciate every sensation. The kid's hands had warmed quickly and they felt good stroking over his balls and up his rod. A draft of cooler air touching his backside made Richard straighten slightly. Considering where the kid's nose was and that both his hands were busy, Alex must have dragged Sharpe's pants down with his teeth. Richard spread his legs, partly to keep his trousers from falling to his ankles and partly to enjoy the feel of Andrews' mouth pressing into ass. Richard's head fell forward to rest against the ratty fabric in front of him. One of Alex's hands journeyed over Sharpe's hip and around to his behind. The fingers tipped sideways and slid into the crease. His fingernails flicked across the entrance to Richard's body brief then settled to hold the way open. Alexander's tongue followed quickly sneaking inside after only a few damp presses. 

"Jeez... God damn." Despite how many times the kid had done this to him it still reduced him to babbling within seconds every time. "Xander... fuck!" Richard's arms had to take up some of the slack as his legs grew weaker. He bent further forward to allow the small intruder even more access. 

Alexander actually laughed. It was a devastating sensation that shut down all of Sharpe's higher brain functions. Only a few simple thoughts like 'MORE' and essential reminders such as 'keep breathing' remained. 

A brief pain in the area of his balls stalled off an orgasm he hadn't even realised was coming. "Shite!" Richard's fists clenched tight, whitening his knuckles. "I hate that." He objected, already knowing what the other's response would be if Alex bothered to answer. Waiting only made it better. Mercifully, Andrews let it slide this time. A loud groan escaped Richard when the kid's tongue withdrew only to be replaced by two fingers slick with Sharpe's own pre-cum. "Bastard!" 

Alex was lifting off his knees. His smoky chuckle ended just as his mouth reached Sharpe's shoulders. "Could be." The kid admitted. 

Wet fabric still rubbed against Richard's exposed skin. Alexander hadn't dropped his own trousers yet. Alex's fingers wiggled and Sharpe gasped as a flash of stimulation resulted. 

"That's why I like it." The kid whispered as if imparting a secret. "Enough friction right there... " He brushed the spot again. "... will have you seeing God, Darlin." 

Richard didn't even try to verbally respond to the tease. He simply sagged into the supporting camo-screen. Sharpe didn't recall his few long ago encounters feeling anything like this. Those had hurt, damn it. This felt like his insides were melting. 

Alexander bit into the muddy back of Sharpe's light jacket harder than he usually dared. Bruises could be explained, teeth marks couldn't. When his teeth released their hold the kid slid down once more, dragging his cheek along the curve of Richard's spine and down to his ass. Alex's fingers withdrew only to return slicker and wider. His other hand squeezed at Richard's cock to provide a distraction. 

Sharpe unconsciously widened his stance to ease the twinge of discomfort he briefly felt. Christ. If anyone wandered up at this point he couldn't imagine himself telling the kid to stop, although he'd most likely kill the intruder by dawn. Richard Sharpe didn't want the image of himself pumping against Andrews' hand remaining in anyone's brain but his own. He even resented that Alex was a witness to his loss of self-control. Gutter learned profanities were hissing out through clenched teeth. Sharpe's back arched as Alex shoved his fingers in as far as they would go while at the same time pulling Richard's balls back again. 

"Not yet." Alexander insisted loudly enough for his lover to hear. Both hands withdrew suddenly leaving Richard exposed to what felt like Arctic air. Andrews cursed and fumbled at Sharpe's back a moment before his touch returned. An arm curved forward to encircle Richard while a warm hand settled on the chilly flesh of his hip. "Ready?" 

"Jest do it." Came the gasping response. He sucked in a deep breath, imitating Alexander's behaviour in the same situation. As the kid rocked against him Richard let the air escape in a long hiss. It didn't hurt so much as feel terribly odd when Alex's flesh invaded him. True to the kid's promise it was an excruciatingly slow push with a long pause as their bodies drew flush to each other. 

Some jumbled exclamation, heavy with consonants, whispered out of Alexander but Richard didn't recognise any of the words. It was followed by something near a whimper. "Mercy Dickin. You feel so good." 

The arm around Richard tightened, pulling the older man up from his bent-over position. Alex's right hand slipped forward to resume teasing along Sharpe's erection. He offered just enough pressure to distract without giving the blonde anything rhythmic enough to get off on. 

"Nothing in life matters more than this." Alexander declared right by his lover's ear. A shiveringly smooth pull and push accompanied the statement. "The heat of your body next to mine. Christ Dickin." As he spoke Alex's fingers worked over Richard's skin. The hand on Sharpe's stomach burrowed up under clothing to caress his smooth, bare chest, lifting him more. The slight change in angle Richard stood at was sufficient to drive the kid's thrusts right across his prostate. 

"God. Damn. Bloody. Hell." Sharpe shuddered uncontrollably. If Andrews weren't holding him in place his spine would have snapped into a bow. 

The kid had the gall to actually laugh. "You like it." Alexander pronounced arrogantly. The movement of his hips gained speed with each shove. Eased by a flow of pre-cum Alex's hand matched the quicker movement. "You're so fucking fabulous." His voice was growing even rougher than normal with gasps punctuating his words. "I'm gonna take you to bed when we get out of this place and keep you there all weekend." Alexander predicted. "I want us to mark each other up, Gorgeous. I want you to dig your fingers into my hips while you're fucking me so hard I wear the bruises for weeks. You want that, Dickin?" His body suddenly stilled. Only his lips, pressed to the fine pale hair at the nape of Sharpe's neck, continued to move. "We can screw around until we're too tired to reach any further than the phone... to order food. Would you give me a weekend like that Dickin?" Teeth rubbed sensitive skin. "You wanna see me crawl naked across the floor with your leash around my neck? I'll do it for you. I'll do anything you want if you'll just be with me." 

"Right. Fine. Whatever." Richard promised absently. He'd grown accustomed to the kid spouting nonsense during sex. "Jest mind what yer doing, Xander." 

Alex emitted a low sigh of pleasure then he began to move again. His hand slid down and out from under Richard's shirt to circle around to the small of Sharpe's back. The older man found himself bent forward once again and Alexander's strokes deepened. 

"Now, Dickin." Desperation was tainting his voice now. "Come on Gorgeous." Andrews began jerking his partner off in earnest as his own thrusting sped up. "Let yourself go." 

Richard was dragging at the camo-net hard enough he was surprised it didn't tear down under the assault. The burn hit him from two different directions at once, a tidal wave of ecstasy. The rush of vivid sensation from his ass and groin was staggering, but expected. However the lances of pleasure that were sparking up the base of neck and smashing into his brain... those surprised him. "Son. Of. A. Bitch." The words practically shredded his throat as he uttered them. 

Alexander had been reduced to simply gasping his appreciation as Richard spurted over his hand. After only a few rabbit quick jolts Andrews collapsed against his lover's back. 

Something that might have been a declaration of love murmured out of Alexander but it was quiet enough that Richard could pretend he didn't hear it. As long as it wasn't repeated it could be ignored. 

As soon as the chill of the night started raising goose flesh on the skin Alex wasn't covering Sharpe roused into action. "Get off me." His shoulders heaved. 

The kid dared another quick kiss behind the older man's ear then he carefully pulled out and away. Richard had to concentrate to un-knot his fingers from the tattered fabric they were tangled in. His palms and fingers were marked with indents because his grip had been so intense. 

"Let me help." Eager fingers began tugging at Richard's underwear and trousers, trying to lift and tuck things away. 

"Piss off already." Sharpe batted the brat's hands away but not before he was decently covered. 

"Not yet." Alexander ducked around to pop up between his lover and the camouflage netting. "Do you have to throw your shields back up so quickly Dickin, me Darlin?" His mouth pressed in, demanding a kiss, while Alex traced across the line of Sharpe's shoulders with his palms. 

In the dark silence Richard allowed himself to give in for a brief time to the comfort of simply kissing his lover. Wrapping his arms around the younger man and holding him close earned a sigh of delight. Sharpe pulled out of the kiss and backed off a few inches so he could see Andrews' face. The moonlight made the kid look even younger that his twenty-two years. "It's a strange thing to say about a guy, but you really are quite beautiful, Xander." Richard remarked, reaching up to stroke his knuckles along the other's cheek. 

"Thank you, Dickin." Alexander leaned eagerly into the gesture of affection. A smile curved his lips. "For everything." 

"Yeah, well... " Sharpe backed away with a brief shake to settle himself. "Don't start expecting flowers or any of that girlie shite." He coughed. 

"I know." Alex scraped a hand back through his hair in a vain attempt to tidy it. "You don't even like me." He had repeated the statement Sharpe had made after their first encounter often enough to turn it into a private joke. 

"If anybody asks... " Richard double-checked to make sure he was all put away then zipped and buttoned up his pants. 

"Nobody will say anything." Alexander assured his lover. "It just looks like we were brawling and nobody's of a mind to get us in trouble so they'll all let it slide." Alex sounded confident. "I mean look at us. I can feel a bruise the shape of your fist forming on my jaw and you've got a cut above your eye. We both look like we've been dragged face first through a marsh." 

"I get it." Richard held up a silencing hand. 

The kid grinned. "You still want that woman, Dickin? I'll trade you a shot at her in exchange for our first free Saturday night spent in a hotel." 

"I'm going for a shower, Xander." The elder said wearily. "I want a ten minute head start 'cause I don't need you underfoot while I'm cleaning up. You understand?" 

"Anything you want, me Darlin. You know that." Alex let himself fall back into the support of the sagging camouflage cover. A contented smirk crooked his mouth. "It's probably best I wait 'cause the cold has never has much bothered me and besides, if I saw you standing in the shower... " He laughed. "Well, it'd undo this nice sense of satisfaction I've got going for me right now." 

Sharpe opened his mouth to begin a reprimand but then decided to let it go. Instead he closed the distance to offer one more fleeting kiss and a sentiment he didn't dare voice inside the barracks. "Goodnight my Xander. Sweet dreams." 

Alexander's breath hitched at the indication of tenderness and his smug expression slipped away to reveal a disturbing flash of naked need. Wide eyes dropped shut and the kid turned his face away, hiding. "G'night Dickin. Take your time. I've some thoughts I've been meaning to sift through and the sky's nice and clear now. I might be a while." 

Even as a part of his conscience was screaming that he stay, Richard turned and headed back towards the buildings. He was going to have to give the kid the weekend he was asking for but they were going to talk, Sharpe promised himself. Okay, they'd probably have sex too... completely mind-blowing sex if the last few weeks were a fair sample, but they would talk. Sooner or later they were going to have to deal with those three frighteningly faint words that Sharpe was still pretending not to hear but Alexander was whispering more loudly every time they collided.

* * *

Rating: It's an NC-17 'Plot, what plot?'  
Date: September 1999  
Disclaimers: Chris Carter, Fox, Bernard Cornwell, and the various actors, writers and producers own everything. I'm not gaining any profit from this...just a bit of twisted amusement.   
Summary: It's England. It's 1988. My skewed version of the X-file's Alex Krycek (using one of his many aliases) is participating in a British black-ops training course. He recently started a relationship with an 'alternate universe' version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe'). Poor Sharpe doesn't realise what he's gotten himself into.   
Notes: This is the second in what may become a series of nasty little vignettes where Krycek and Sharpe collide over the course of several years.   
Email—yes please, [email removed]   
Other websites—[broken link removed]   
---


	3. Costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').

**Part III  
Costume**

  
Richard Sharpe realised the pile of mistakes he was amassing was impressive. It had been less than sensible to have a sexual encounter with a fellow trainee. Sharpe had compounded the error by allowing the fling to turn into an affair. When he and Andrews had been assigned to the same unit after being put into the field they should have stepped back to a professional distance, instead they had foolishly chosen to share a small flat. 

Richard had told himself they were simply selecting each other for roommates because it was the logical thing to do. Most of the single guys in their line did it. None of them were home for long enough periods to justify paying full pop on a flat. When living with a teammate you didn't have massive security problems if your roommate accidentally intercepted an important call or poked into your business. It meant there was always someone about to hang out with who didn't question your peculiar hours or secretive attitude. 

But then again, Sharpe doubted any of those guys were fucking around with their mates on a regular basis. None of those guys had Alexander Andrews sharing their flats though. It was easier to contain an explosion with your bare hands than to say 'no' to Andrews. 

The kid was the ideal team-mate on the job; a stone cold professional who was absolutely ruthless about accomplishing the mission objective. As far as Richard could see he never made any attempt to curry favouritism with their superiors and he gave Sharpe full credit for any exceptional performance. If they were out pub-crawling with some of the lads Andrews handled his booze and women just like every other guy in the squad, if not a little better. He didn't drink as much and the ladies practically fell at the kid's feet. 

Still, when he and Richard were alone together with the door closed on the outside world Alexander was a force of nature, primal and almost uncontrollable. 

The biggest mistake however, Sharpe decided, was allowing what should have been a 'buddy fuck' to grow into something more. The first time they didn't withdraw to their separate rooms after tangling the sheets was the beginning of a quick slide down a slippery slope into dangerous territory. 

So it was that Richard Sharpe found himself sitting on the couch in their sparse living-room not two hours after returning from an assignment that was nearly the death of both of them when he should have been out prowling for a willing lady or two to reaffirm life with. He sat because Andrews had said 'please' with such an eager puppy look on his face. 

Five minutes, he'd give the little brat five more minutes then he was going skirt chasing. 

Just as Richard was grabbing up his jacket to go out there was a light knock at the door. Sharpe dropped the brown leather and crossed the room. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found on the other side of the door. 

Catholic schoolgirls were not supposed to be six feet tall with smouldering dark green eyes but the vision in Sharpe's hallway contradicted that idea. The costume was as authentic as they came; a navy jacket with a colourful crest on the breast, a crisp white blouse, a plaid skirt, white socks and shiny leather shoes. 

"Alexis." The fingers that waved a sketchy hello were too thick for a woman but the long painted nails were impeccable. "You must be Richard. My cousin told me you'd be here." 

Thankfully Andrews made no attempt to alter his usual husky voice. Sharpe had too many memories of that voice whispering intoxicating obscenities in his ear. He loved the kid's voice. 

"So, you've the manners of a gutter whelp as well as the pedigree. Don't bother to invite me in. I can deduce the path myself. Blessed Mary." Alexander brushed past in a perfect impersonation of how those uppity rich girls had treated Richard all those years ago. Some, too sweet, floral perfume tickled Sharpe's nose as they passed. The wig was a match for Alexander's almost black brown hair and it was plaited into two tidy pigtails. "So Richard?" Andrews settled on the couch, minimising his disturbing height. "When do you expect my cousin to wander his way....oh my." The kid's eyes suddenly widened as he looked up at Sharpe, almost as if he were actually seeing the older man for the first time. "Xander didn't tell me his roommate was such an attractive man." 

"Shite." Richard swung the door shut and tried to decide what to do about his lover's bizarre behaviour. Damn, but the kid didn't even come off as silly despite the get-up. He looked good this way. The mascara and shadow made his eyes look even more seductive than usual and his odd size was nicely balanced by his natural poise. 

He had confessed the old daydream to Andrews in an effort to help pass the time a few weeks ago while pinned down with nothing to do then promptly forgotten the incident in the rush of action that had followed. Sharpe wasn't sure if he should be regretting the casual mid-mission conversation that had provoked this scenario or if he was grateful. "I weren't expecting..." He let the sentence trail off unfinished. 

"Neither was I, but aren't we the lucky pair." Alexander's legs lifted to lie decoratively across the sofa. "Come sit with me, Richard." A narrow space remained near the kid's leather encased feet. "Xander mentioned that you were quite the accomplished soldier. Did you just get in from a mission?" 

"Yeah." Sharpe settled down beside his lover. "I'm kind of surprised that Xander ain't roaring to go out." He let a tight smile curve his mouth, relaxing into the game. "Gun-fights usually get him hornier than an alley-cat and the bullets were flying not six hours ago." Richard ran a finger up the pristine white of Alexander's ankle sock. He couldn't help but notice the kid hand shaved his legs for the part he was playing. "But then he's probably fucking with someone right now." Sharpe used the profanity on purpose and was pleased to see Andrews feign an embarrassed blush. 

"Richard Sharpe." Alex sat up. "You either mind your manners or I'll tell my cousin what an absolute brute you are." 

Richard's disappointment at loosing tactile contact was tempered by the fact Alexander's uniform skirt was riding up quite nicely. Unlike all those fussy schoolgirls from St. Mary's, a convent school on the edge of his old neighbourhood, Alex wasn't going to leave him with a deadly case of blue- balls. "Your cousin..." Sharpe felt a laugh tickle the back of his throat. "...is a slutty little whore who's very happy when I behave like a brute and so are you, I expect." 

Alexander blinked in surprise, his eyebrows lifting. Painted lips parted creating too much of a temptation for Sharpe to resist. The older man closed the distance between them and, catching Alex by the neck, pulled him in for a kiss. The kid squirmed and squeaked a protest as Richard's tongue invaded his mouth. The hollow struggle contained not one ounce of the skill Sharpe knew Andrews was capable of. Then there was the fact that Alex never refused a kiss. It only took a few minutes of searching lip contact before the kid practically melted into Richard's hold. 

A gentle shove to Alexander's left shoulder was all it took to ease him sideways and onto his back. In no time flat they were laid out on the couch necking like a couple of teenagers. 

Richard could hardly believe it. Almost every detail of the fantasy he had confided in Alexander was perfect down to the cherry flavoured lipstick. The only glaring flaw was the stiff erection under the plaid skirt. "Sweet baby." Sharpe's mouth dragged down the kid's chin to his throat. One of his hands yanked at the waist of Alex's blouse attempting to destroy the snug tuck-in job. He had to know what was causing the slight curve at Andrew's chest. 

"Mark me, Richard." The request was hoarse. "I want a hickey to show the girls at school. Please." 

Sharpe kissed lower searching for just the right spot. He liked the way the body under him shivered in eager anticipation. He latched on just as the waistband of the skirt released. The bottom button of the delicate shirt went flying across the room in reaction to the abrupt pull. 

Alexander's hips jerked and a squeak of delight escaped his chest. "Oh Richard." His hand tightened its grip in the golden blonde hair. "That feels so good." Long legs lifted to wrap around Sharpe's hips and hold him tight, grinding enthusiastically into his lover. 

"Lemmie..." Richard's face pressed to the small 'V' of skin that the blouse opening revealed while he continued to shove the garment up from the bottom. "Jeez." Sharpe pulled away and up to gaze at his lover. "I want..." He caught two handfuls of the pale shirt and tore it open. The delicate bra underneath was lightly padded and decorated with a tiny pink bow. The sight of it, framed by the torn blouse and rumpled blazer jumped Richard's pulse rate yet again. 

"You look like a starving wolf." Alex made as if to close the damaged garment. 

"Don't." Sharpe commanded. "I want to look at you, Alexis." He smiled at the stranger's name and reached down to trace the kid's smeared lips. "Lick my fingers." 

Alex's lashes lowered. A threat of disobedience tinted his expression but still his tongue flicked out to dampen the pads of the older man's fingers. 

"There's my good girl." Richard praised. He tickled a wet touch across Alexander's collarbone and down into the line of artificial cleavage. Once it dried he caught at the bit of strapping that connected the two cups and snapped it. "Pull your skirt up. Show me what you've got under there." 

Reluctantly Alexander released his hold on Richard and dropped his hands to the hem of his kilt. He teased it up awkwardly without dropping his legs from around Sharpe's hips so their crotches continued to rub together at every twisting wiggle. Gradually lace trimmed white panties were revealed to the older man's gaze. The illusion was harder to hold at the sight of the damp, straining fabric. 

A laugh slipped out of Richard's at the preposterous scene they must be presenting. "Slut. You're leaking." He accused in a good-natured tease as he used one finger to trace the clearly outlined erection. 

Andrews hissed out an excited gasp and his hips bucked in reaction. "I want you Dickin." Alex discarded his adopted persona. "Fuck me. Do me now." 

"What a filthy mouth you have little girl." Richard shoved at Andrews' legs, pushing them open. "The nuns would take a willow switch to your bottom if they heard that." He elaborated. "But since we've neither of those..." Sharpe broke free of his lover's hold, sat down and caught at the shoulder of Alex's blazer. "I'll have to see to it myself." Andrews look of honest surprise was satisfying. "Com'ere." Finding no resistance Richard pulled the kid across his lap with laughable ease. Alexander was heavier than he looked and long enough that his feet touched one end of the sofa at the same time his head touched the other. Still, it was easy to disregard the incongruities and concentrate simply on the behind propped over his lap, Sharpe concluded. He ran a reverent caress up the back of one leg easing the concealing plaid away. The calluses on his hand snagged lightly at the pure silk of the kid's panties. Tipping his palm inward Richard used the narrow edge to follow the hidden crevice between Alex's butt cheeks. 

Andrews squirmed encouragement. "Dickin." 

The first hard slap seemed to catch them both by surprise. Alexander let out a yelp. Sharpe stared at his hand as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just done. "Richard." He corrected, his voice steadier than his nerves. "My name is Richard. No Dick. Not Dickin." He stroked the spot he'd just smacked. "No cutsey pet names." 

"I like Dickin." Alex declared. 

The second blow was even harder than the first. The force of it made Sharpe's palm tingle. "Richard." He repeated blandly. Hooking a fingertip under the lacy band at one leg, Richard ran a knuckle along soft skin. "You're going to have to say you want this." The older man murmured. His conscience wouldn't allow him to proceed without some kind of consent, although the rock solid hard-on pressing down into his lap was a good sign. 

Alexander shivered. The kid was hiding his face in between his bent arms. The admission came in a halting whisper. "I get off on it when you hurt me, Dickin. I want. Do it. Don't stop even if I beg." 

"You are seriously fucked-up, Xander." Richard moved his grip to the waistband of the silken garment and yanked hard, exposing slightly reddened skin. "But Lord help us both, I like it." He pinched. 

The kid groaned deep in his throat and lifted his ass higher in invitation. Sharpe didn't even try to start slow and work his way gradually to more punishing slaps. Over the last four months he'd seen what kind of punishment Alex's body could accept without flinching. Christ, the kid had taken an hour's torture from a pair of pissed off terrorists and had shaken it off fast enough to break into the bastards' computer and copy the hard drive twenty minutes afterward. Richard put every bit of arm strength he had into each swat. 

Alexander's body started off rigidly tense. His only response to the abuse was a set of low throaty noises at first. Sharpe's hand was stinging before the younger man's stiff posture began to desert him. At the first open-mouthed gasp Richard paused and repeated his demand. "What's my name?" 

"Fuck...Dickin, me lovely, don't you know?" The arrogance of the remark was barely tainted by strain. 

"Stubborn Bastard." Sharpe wished he'd thought to grab a prop. It was obvious that Alexander's ass was tougher than his palm. A stretching grab caught hold of the kid's ankle. "Gimmie this." Richard wrenched one of the neat black shoes off his lover, shifting it to hold it by the heel. The hard sole provoked a satisfying yelp of pain when it smacked down. Sharpe grinned fiercely and set himself to the task of painting Alex's behind a nice even bright red. With every resounding slam the kid's body sagged further and his vocalisations grew more honest. They even took on an edge of protest that Sharpe ignored. 

"Stop, Dickin! Don't." Andrews struggled. "You're hurting me." 

The older man simply tightened his jaw and kept one hand firmly on the small of Alexander's back, holding him in place for the harsh spanking until just the right phrase finally blurted out. 

"RICHARD! PLEASE!" The kid's voice cracked on the plea, threatening tears. 

Sharpe dropped the shoe immediately. His fingers brushed the damaged skin in front of him. "Shite. I'm sorry, Xander. I went too far." 

"No." Andrews protested in desperate undertone. "Never. This is nothing." Alex squirmed frantically, turning over and sliding off Richard's lap. "Strip." He demanded. "I'm dying. Fuck me." Fingers grabbed at the fly of Sharpe's jeans, almost rending in their hurry. 

"I've got it." Sharpe slapped the frantic hands away for fear of catching tender skin in the zipper. The opening was hard to work. His erection was straining the fly out of shape. 

"Sonnabitch." Alexander reached, tearing the bunched up panties off himself then falling onto his back. "NOW!" He practically screamed the word. 

Richard toed off the shoes that were stalling out his attempt to get out of his pants. "Yeah, yeah. Pushy bitch." He grumbled, kicking off the last pant-leg. Sharpe turned back to the sight of Andrews grabbing the backs of his own knees and pulling himself up until he was bent almost in half. "Christ yer a slut, Xander." Richard caught the lifted legs and hooked them over his shoulders. Touching the kid's ass caused a hiss of pain but no struggle. Sharpe pressed a thumb at the small pucker between Alex's cheeks. "Yer already greased." 

"Of course." Andrews' tone was almost savage. "Now fuck me damn it. I can take it. Do me now." 

Richard pressed the head of his cock to the burning hot ring intending a slow steady ease in but the kid was having nothing of that gentleness. With a breathtaking jerk of movement Alexander impaled himself in one painful thrust startling a scream of agony from himself. 

"Stupid bloody fool." Sharpe seized his lover's hips for balance, his blunt nails almost digging into the skin. If Alex so much as breathed heavily Richard was going to lose his load. "Be still." He warned. 

"Damn." The kid's head thumped violently back against the padded arm of the sofa. "That friggin hurts." His teeth bared in something that might have been a grin. "S'good." 

"Idiot." Sharpe accused. Richard held his body still but he reached down with one hand to cup the back of his lover's skull, barely halting another bruising head bang. "Don't Xander." Sharpe tightened his grip. He'd seen the kid injure himself before to take his mind off another less-controllable pain. "Jest wait a bit. This part should never hurt." 

Andrews' mouth opened as if to protest the statement but all that emerged were a few ragged pants. Gradually the kid's body relaxed under him, unclenching. Richard dared a shallow thrust of his hips, testing how close he was and was pleased to realise that he could hold back. Alex arched into the action like a cat, growling his pleasure. His head rubbed into Richard's hand demanding that the caress continue and leaving Sharpe to balance with a single arm. Alexander's legs bent even further on a back-pull to slip under Richard's arms and wrapped around his lover's hips. 

"Yer gonna have to stroke yerself, Xander baby. I can't do yer." He told the other. "Bring yerself off. Lemmie see you do it, Sweet thing." 

"Ah! Dickin." Alexander whimpered, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his weeping cock. "Keep talking." 

"You want me to talk...or to fuck you through the couch?" Richard punctuated the choice with an extra hard hook of his hips. 

"Yes. Both. Everything." Hitching gasps for air separated the words. "I want everything you've got." Andrews' fingers were a blur of movement. His heels were digging into Sharpe's back demanding something near brutality. "I want you to own me." 

"Twisted slut." Richard accused breathlessly. 

Alex almost laughed. "Your slut." 

"Mine." 

The word provoked an immediate response. Andrews pumping grasp stilled. The kid emitted a groan that sounded as if it had come from the depths of his soul and both his hands reached up to drag Richard down against him. "Say it again." 

"Mine." Sharpe repeated while straining to continue thrusting despite the awkward position his lover had pulled him into. "Mine." His lips branded the word right into the skin of Alexander's throat. 

Shudders began wracking Andrews' frame. His head pressed back forcefully enough to pin Richard's hand in place and the kid's voice threatened a full-throated scream. "Da. Da. Fuck. Darlin'. M'God." Nails dug into Sharpe's scalp. "Fuck. I love you. There's n'body like you, Dickin." 

Richard felt the contractions start deep within his lover's body, bearing painfully down on his cock. Alex was practically crying now but the only thing Sharpe could think about was the storm of sensation dragging at his own body. The last few pushes were almost agony before the firestorm hit. Richard's fingers clawed at the kid's hips holding him in place. 

"Love you. Love you." Alexander was chanting the phrase now. 

Sharpe collapsed heavily on the younger man, burying his face in the rough navy blue fabric. No more sound escaped the kid but Andrews' lips continued to move, brushing Richard's sweat dampened hair. The fantasy was enveloping; the cloth against his cheek, the scent of perfume, sweat and sex, the long nails playing across his skin. It was all there. Sharpe's body was heavy with contentment. He wiggled his hand free from behind his lover's head so he could toy with one long tail of soft hair. Their bodies gradually separated as both men straightened out their legs but neither of them moved to wipe up the sticky fluids between them. 

"I really do love you, Dickin." Alex repeated in a quiet, carefully controlled tone. He smiled against the crown of Richard's head when the older man let out a put upon sigh at the declaration. "Don't worry about it, Dickin. I don't expect anything of you. I just do. It's no big thing." 

"Xander, I wish you wouldn't. You and me, we're..." Sharpe floundered, not able to pick out the right word. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have at his back in a fire-fight and off duty they got along well enough but they weren't exactly friends. The kid was a killer in the sack but sex wasn't love. 

"Don't worry about it, me Darlin." Andrews skated his fingers down Sharpe's spine. "We should tidy up and hit the pub. That pretty Spanish munitions expert said she wanted to buy us some beers." 

"Teresa Moreno." Richard murmured into the lapel of Alex's jacket, rubbing his cheek into the thick cloth. "I think she fancies you, Xander. She was trying to get your phone number from Dawson." 

"OUR phone number. YOUR'S I suspect." Alexander corrected. "She's too old for me anyhow." The kid teased. "You can have her. I prefer blondes." He nuzzled, tickling Sharpe's scalp. 

Richard planted a kiss on Andrews' chest then heaved himself upright. His one hand trailed over the rumpled uniform as he rose. "This was a kick. Thanks Xander." 

"Anything you want, Dickin. I told you that." 

Richard had to turn away from the intensity in his lover's dark eyes. "We don't have to go out." He compromised, suspecting that the kid would rather crawl into bed and have another go. That idea had it's own merits; now he thought about it. 

Alexander swung around, sitting up. He reached up and pulled off the wig, which was now askew. "I'm fucking hyped. You wouldn't be able to keep up with me tonight, Dickin me Darlin." The kid squirmed out of the torn, stained outfit. "I'm gonna find myself a couple of energetic girls to play with." He tossed the clothing onto a chair without care as to how it look to any guests they might have later. "Though I wouldn't say no to a little deep throat action in the shower, Gorgeous." His lips curved into an imp's smile. 

"For you or me?" Richard teased, discarding what remained of his own clothes just as haphazardly. 

"Yes." The kid responded vaguely before disappearing down the short hall that lead to the bedrooms and the loo. 

So Alexander didn't think that Richard had the stamina to match him tonight. Sharpe wasn't entirely sure whether he should take up the challenge or let the dare slide and go out. On one hand Andrews wasn't about to disappear any time soon, while Teresa, the charming explosions expert was only on temporary loan to their team. On the other, Richard wasn't sure he wanted to waste the mood Alex was in on a couple of faceless pickups. Then again there was a good chance that Sharpe wouldn't be able to satisfy his lover tonight if Andrews was as charged up as all that. Best he take what he wanted in the shower then look for someone a little less exhausting to spend the entire night with. Besides, the rest of the team was going to start wondering about them if they didn't chase after some ladies tonight. As much fun as the kid was Richard had no desire to risk his promising position over the relationship. There was a damned good chance he'd bee team leader on the next mission if everything went the way it was supposed to. 

Sharpe heard the sound of water pattering against the shower curtain through the open bathroom door. In the meantime they were still locked securely inside their own flat. Richard headed down the hall. There was no sense in wasting the opportunity awaiting him right now. 

* * *

Rating: NC17, slash, pwp  
Summary: Alex in a dress, yeah, like that's a plot  
Date: October 1999  
Disclaimers: Chris Carter, Fox, Bernard Cornwell, and the various actors, writers and producers own these characters. I don't. On the other hand I'm not after any profit from this...just a bit of kinky entertainment so if you would, could you please excuse my petty pilfering ladies and gentlemen?   
Email—yes please, [email removed]   
Other websites—[broken link removed]   
---


	4. Disruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').

**Part IV  
Disruption**

  
Richard had his head buried under one pillow and he was laying half on top of another. It was good to be back in his own bed after the weekend in that frilly bed and breakfast in Spain. He simply couldn't feel as comfortably sluggish with the tidy old lady who ran the place picking up after them and chattering about all the sights that the pair of them should take in. Richard liked laying naked in the bed with door wide open without worrying about how it looked. 

The soft pad of footsteps warned him that he had company in the bedroom but Sharpe didn't bother moving to acknowledge the other. Instead he laid quietly as the thin sheet that covered him was caught and began slowing inching down his bare back andass. The mattress dipped as soon as he was completely exposed and denim clad legs moved to straddle him. The double thump of hands landed just below his up-stretched arms. Soft lips teased between scarred shoulder- blades, scattering damp kisses. A tongue flicked out to trace the longest of the marks that the group home supervisor's belt had cut into his back. 

Richard hummed low in his chest and shifted slightly, making the side of his head more readily available. He wasn't sure if the invitation would even be acknowledged but surprisingly enough his silent partner immediately obliged, acting unusually indulgent about gratifying his whims this afternoon. The sucking kisses drifted up, grazing the nape of Sharpe's neck before nibbling at the offered ear. Single-minded attention was lavished about the area for a good long time before the mouth began to descend once more. Teeth nipped playfully down Richard's spine. The body above him rocked up and newly freed hands ran down as well, tracing tiny circles as they moved along sleep warmed skin. 

"Mmm." Sharpe twisted languorously, enjoying the attention. When the gentle hands cupped the cheeks of his ass and carefully parted them to allow the lapping tongue lower Richard's eyes snapped open. "Son of a bitch!" He rolled abruptly, shoving the pillows away from his face to get a good look at who it was that had been straddling him. 

Alexander Andrews, Richard's flatmate, settled back onto the rumpled sheets beside him. The younger man looked mildly concerned by the violent reaction his lover of seven months had to him. "What?" Alex protested. "Your bedroom door was standing open."The kid referred to the code that indicated whether or not they were welcome in one another's bedrooms. 

Richard collapsed back down. "I thought you were out of the city. Yer Mam's been leaving messages once a day for weeks reminding you that you were expected. Yer supposed to be in bloody Ireland right now." He complained. "Teresa and I... Teresa's staying here." Sharpe's mind raced. He'd been hoping for another few days before having to deal with the kid's reaction to what he and Teresa had been up to. 

"I'm dodging my family." Alexander shrugged, an elegant gesture. 

That wasn't news. Richard had noticed Andrews avoiding the telephone and tossing notes into the garbage without reading them for almost a month now. He'd had to field a few calls from the kid's irate mother and sister a couple of times. Those women were heartily pissed at Alex. 

"Well, Terry must have popped out to the shop 'cause she ain't here right now,Gorgeous." Andrews frowned at some stray thought chasing through his head then seemed to banish it in favour of a crooked smile. "Not that she should mind, Dickin, me Darlin. She's had you for days. It's my turn." The kid actually pounced like an overgrown cat whispering in that low sexy voice of his. "God, I missed you so much it hurt." Alex crawled into place and melded their mouths together. 

Richard gave into the overpowering devotion his lover was displaying. He reached up and around to slide up Alexander's narrow ass and under the kid's soft grey shirt. Fingers threaded into Sharpe's messy gold hair, tangling, and eager noises began to escape Andrews' throat. Their bodies rubbed together, the cloth pleasantly abrasive against Richard's sensitised skin. 

"Terry's greedy. She hates sharing you." Alex complained in a pout that sounded just a bit too sincere. 

"Teresa..." Sharpe corrected with a pecking kiss. "Says the same thing about you, Xander. After all, we've been livin' t'gether all this time." Richard was never entirely certain if the halfway friendly rivalry Teresa and Alex played at wasn't something much more hostile. Either way it was about to explode in his face when his lady returned to the flat. 

"But I love you more than she does." Alexander proclaimed passionately, locking his dark green eyes with Richard's cool, pale ones. "Sometimes I suspect you wouldn't even bother with women anymore if you weren't so fucking worried about what Command would think of what we're doing, my Dearest." He sighed, staring intently at his lover'sface. His voice took on a tone of momentous resolve. "I've decided I want to stay with you, Dickin. I like who I am around you." The kid stated cryptically then grinned again banishing the odd expression that had accompanied the announcement. "I'm better in the sack than any silly girl, aren't I." Alex taunted. His teeth snapped near Richard'sunfashionably long sideburns. "I know I give better head than Terry, Darlin, by fair margin. I've listened in and you don't moan half so loud when she's going down on you." 

"Don't start, Brat." Richard carefully eased his lover back. "I do not want her coming home to this, Xander. She's been cool with it before but... SHITE! Xander, careful with that." 

Andrews attempted to short circuit the protest by wrapping his talented fingers around Sharpe's half interested cock and squeezing. "I've missed this beauty over the last few days." His thumb ran a snaking caress up the shaft and across the head. "I haven't had a good stiff piece since you left, Darlin. Just chickies. You're a bad influence on me." 

"Gender monogamy." Richard barked out a laugh. "I'm flattered, but you shouldn't, Sweet thing. Not for me." His breath caught as Alexander tickled the flat of his nails over stiffening flesh. "Stop it. Teresa will be back any minute." 

"She can watch." Alex offered with a smirk. He was edging down, dragging damp lips over every inch of skin available as he went. "Or I suppose she could join in. Your mouth ain't busy... but this..." Andrews kissed his way down to the short wiry hair at Richard's groin. "This is mine to play with until I get some cream filling." 

"Jesus, Xander." The elder complained at his choice of phrasing. 

"That's nothing." Alexander snickered. "I was thinking of asking you to sit for a plastercast. That way I could have a rubber copy of this wonder if Terry drags you out of the city again. Whacha think of that, Gorgeous?" The kid didn't seem interested in Richard's answer. His entire attention was focused on coaxing the erection in his hand to it's full length. Alex slid further down the bed to line his mouth up with the object of his affection. 

The clear-eyed fascination that the kid's face seemed to display always made Richard a little uncomfortable. It suggested such a strange combination of precise technical skill, mischief and honest desire. At times Sharpe felt the urge to demand the history of Alex's sexual experiences but he suspected if he actually learned about it he would immediately regret the knowledge. Andrews bent his head to run his tongue up the underside of Sharpe's erection, putting an end to complex thoughts. "Don't." The protest was a mere token nod to his previous determination not to fuck around with Alexander. Once the kid started a blowjob Richard lost all willpower. 

Andrews reached the tip and suckled gently suggesting that this was going to be the kind of encounter that melted Sharpe to the core with sweetness. The older man carded his hand through Alex's almost black hair. He should pull the kid off but the warm suction was drifting over every single sensitive spot. Xander was right. He was better at this than any woman Richard had tried. Alexander's tongue rolled into a point and thoroughly explored the weeping tip before his mouth opened wide and Richard's cock was slowly swallowed up by moist heat. 

Sharpe closed his eyes and laid bonelessly under the sensual assault. Teresa could come home, the country could sink into the ocean, the Commander himself could walk in and start video-taping them... at this exact moment Richard couldn't bring himself to care about anything but what Andrews was doing to him. Christ, the kid could be earning diamonds and gold if he sold this skill instead working for the British government. When one of Alex's hands began a teasing ball massage Richard let out a pained groan. His hips rolled and Sharpe's legs spread even wider, inviting more contact. 

How could he even consider giving up the delights Alex offered so freely? The kid was a wealth of sweet kinks and he was unrestrainedly gifting Richard with every drop of pleasure his young body could provide. Even hinting at a fantasy almost guaranteed that it would be fulfilled within weeks. When Alexander said that he'd do anything Sharpe wanted, he'd meant it and he did so with enthusiasm. The kid was a living, breathing sex toy behind the safely closed door of their joint apartment. 

Andrews tongue and teeth worked their magic making Richard moan and toss his head against the bedsheets. His fingers tightened in dark hair, holding the kid in place and urging Alexander to take him even deeper. "Christ Xander. That's the way." Sharpe's back started to arch upward. He heard a brief gagging noise but the pressure grew more intense on his cock rather than easing off. Richard screwed his eyes shut to better appreciate the sensations beginning to wrack through his body. "Do that... Sweet thing. There's my Xander." 

The kid's hands wandered, teasing and pinching lightly, wanting to force his lover into making as much noise as possible. Alexander rewarded each vocalisation with a hard swallow at the back of his throat. Alex took Richard to the edge four or five times but eased off just as Sharpe was about to loose it. It wasn't until the elder man had been reduced to hoarse curses that Alexander took him all the way. Saliva soaked fingers pushed into Richard's ass and the kid's throat constricted, dragging Sharpe's orgasm up from the base of his balls. 

Fearful of carelessly breaking the kid's neck Richard released his grip on Alex in favour of pounding his fists down against the mattress. His body was still shuddering in reaction when Alex's mouth vanished. Sharpe was distantly aware of his lover fumbling with his own jeans and spitting before he felt his body being manhandled into position. Limp legs lifted and parted without protest. Richard grunted at the pressure but he wasn't worried. Andrews was always so careful when penetrating him, rocking gently rather than forcing his way inside. The fluttery moan of pleasure the kid invariably let out as his erection pierced Sharpe was enough to send a shiver of arousal up the spine of the man under him despite Richard's satisfaction. 

"I love you, Dickin." Alexander hissed out between clenched teeth. "I've never loved anyone like I love you. God!" His hips thrust carefully. "...do anything... get you whatever you need. I can." 

"Don't Xander." Richard whispered. "Don't talk." Normally he couldn't get enough of the kid's breathless proclamations but today Sharpe simply couldn't bear them, not in light of what he'd done with Teresa. 

Alexander wouldn't lapse into complete silence but his endearments were now pressed almost noiselessly right against Richard's fever hot skin. The words had lapsed into babble with maybe a hint of French or some such if Sharpe was hearing clearly. 

"Moi Dickin." Alex threw his dark head back sending scalding droplets of sweat flying. His spine snapped and blunt nails dug into Richard's hips, holding on desperately. "M'sorry." The younger man slumped forward. "Too fast. M'sorry, me Darlin. I just missed you so much." His separation was obviously reluctant but Alex carefully pulled their bodies apart. His fingertips flickered across the older man's skin, apologising to the beginnings of Richard's returning erection. 

"Shush." 

"I want you to do me, Dickin. I want this in me." Andrews ran his nails over slowly stiffening flesh. "I want it so deep it feels like it's spearing my heart. That's how it should be with us, Love." 

"Xander." Sharpe pushed at the other. "Don't. We've really got to talk before Teresa comes back." 

"I don' wanna talk. I wanna screw." The kid crawled up to steal a bitter tasting kiss. "I want to fuck until neither of us has the strength to talk." 

"Afternoon, boys." 

The voice from the doorway was more effective than a bucket of ice on Richard's arousal. Alexander simply growled, low in his throat, frowning absently. 

"I went out for supplies." Teresa paced across the floor then fearlessly sat down on the edge of the bed. She and Alex exchanged territorial glares. "I thought you were supposed to be in Ireland, Alexander." 

"I thought you were only supposed to be on temporary loan to our team... so I guess we're even." He had begun mentioning her returning to Spain at least once a day when they met lately. 

Teresa ignored the subtle malice in his voice, turning to Richard. "You need to tell him." 

"Tell me what?" The kid's eyes went even wider than usual, betraying dread. "Has the Commander decided to keep her on permanently?" 

Sharpe squirmed. This wasn't how he'd wanted to break the news to his lover, not naked and reeking of sex. His mouth moved trying to decide on which words to begin with. "Not exactly." 

"What?" Andrews casually tucked himself away and pulled his jeans closed. "What'exactly'?" He shifted into a more comfortable position without surrendering any of his proximity to Richard. 

"Simmerson spoke to me at headquarters the other day." Sharpe started at the beginning. Mentioning that particular bureaucrat invariably creased up Andrews' nose with distaste. Not that Richard liked the asshole either. "A new first team is being chosen. Willard's lost too many men... and he's tired." 

Alexander nodded warily. The news wasn't unexpected or bad. Richard was a prime candidate to take lead on the newly assembled force. 

"Command wants to give me the job, the position as First." Sharpe watched his lover's face carefully, half wishing he'd thought to stash a gun under the pillows for the moment of truth. "But..." He faltered, not wanting to say the words. 

"But they know about the pair of you." Teresa interrupted impatiently. "And they don'tlike it. It's dangerous on so many levels." She met Alex's glare. "You're not stupid, you know what kind of trouble this could stir up. Couples aren't allowed to work together... and a same sex couple is just asking for a scandal in the press. It's a security breach waiting to happen if an outside organisation sniffed this out." 

Alexander's frown had quickly drawn into a snarl. "I know, I know... but what exactly does it mean?" He prompted, staring expectantly at Richard. "What the fuck are you trying to tell me?" 

"You realise what kind of honour it is, to be offered Command of the first team when I've only been in the field for a few months. It's unheard of." Richard didn't dare meet his lover's gaze. "It's everything I've worked for. It's what you've been helping build me up for too, Xander... by giving me credit, by busting your gut to make me look good." He picked at the sheets, unwilling to look the other straight in the eyes. 

The younger man sucked in a breath of air. "No. You can't mean..." Alexander's head began slowly shaking back and forth. "We can be even more discreet." He argued quietly. "They wouldn't dare break up our partnership. They know how well we work together. I'm your second. You need..." The kid's objection trailed off unfinished at the solemn looks he was receiving from both Teresa and Richard. "But they can't dictate our personal lives even if they reassign us." His tone was a low rumble. "Right Dickin? We can still be together off duty." His voice grew desperate. 

"Alexander." Richard began cautiously. "You know better than anyone what my career means to me." 

"Don't." The kid warned vaguely. 

"Command set it up, fixed it so Teresa and I could get married a few days ago. Simmerson pushed all the paperwork through." Richard sat straighter, fidgeting with the pillow he'd pulled onto his lap. "They're more comfortable about promoting me now. The way is wide open for me." He shot an unsteady grin at his new bride. "Teresa and I suit each other just fine. I can't think of another lady I'd rather be with." 

The kid's breath was growing shallow and his eyes were flicking wildly between Richard and Teresa but he was doing better than Sharpe had feared. Andrews hadn't lost control. 

"You married Terry." Alexander repeated softly, trying to convince himself. "You just slipped away and married her without telling me." 

The anger was coming. Sharpe could feel it prickling like the heat of a fire on his skin. 

"What? You thought I'd try to chain you up? Or was that you knew you wouldn't be able to go through with it if I put my mind to persuading you out of it? You don't love her Dickin, not like you love me." 

"Alex." Teresa attempted to join the conversation. 

"NO! YOU stay out of it. I'm all right." The younger man said reasonably. His nose wrinkled and the crease between his brows cut deep. "I can deal." Alexander turned back to his lover. "I've been sharing you all this time. What's a piece of paper going to change? You still need me. You still want me. Right Dickin? I've been a dirty little secret before. Hey, it's got it's own attractions." The kid bit his lip. "Dickin?" His voice trembled on the edge of breaking. 

"Alexander, no." Richard said softly. 

"I could quit the force. I could find something else to do around the city. When you're home we..." His eyes had darkened from their usual green to almost black. 

"It would be a security risk." Sharpe shook his head. "They'd know." 

"Oh fuck. I'm so screwed it's pathetic." Alex buried his face in his hands a moment almost at the edge of tears. "I was ready to give it all up. I finished here weeks ago. Nicki's been absolutely screaming at me to come home but I thought I could stay with you. I thought it would be worth it 'cause you loved me." 

Richard frowned, not understanding everything the kid was trying to say. Instead he addressed the fragment he did comprehend. "I do love you, Xander... in a way, but I need more than..." 

"SHUT UP!" The younger man threw himself backwards and to his feet. His grief burned up into white hot fury. 

Teresa stood slowly, her palms out. "Alexander, calm down." 

"YOU BITCH! You selfish bitch! You took him. You've completely fucked me up. You're never going to love him like I do, you're just..." Alex's fists were clenched and his face was bloodless. 

Sharpe's mouth straightened into a hard line. "That's enough, Alexander!" Richard discarded his coverings to lunge, making a grab at the kid's arm. "Settle down." 

Andrews flinched backwards. "NO!" The words howled out. "You have no idea what I was willing to give you!" He darted sideways across the foot of the bed still screaming."E"b tvoju mat'!" 

Sharpe's forehead crinkled into furrows. The kid had lapsed into babbling, shifting into the mucked up language he sometimes used when the sex was too intense for anything else. Richard suspected it was some local Gaelic dialect from Alexander's childhood. All that really mattered was the absolute look of rage and threat distorting the kid's beautiful face. "I don't understand you, Xander." 

Alex let out a pained bark of laughter. "Ty mne van'ku ne val'aj, moi Dickin." He snapped, continuing on in that same line of gibberish and growing more enraged with every syllable. A hiccup of emotion choked him off momentarily. The kid swallowed desperately and reverted back to proper English. "How can you do this?" Angry tears were leaking from the corner of his eyes but he didn't even bother to wipe at them. 

Teresa was staring across at the young man with her mouth hanging open. 

Richard made another attempt to move forward but it only caused the kid to edge closer to the door. "Xander, you're one of my best friends. It doesn't have to be like this. I want you to keep the flat. You should stay with the Force. You're good at what we do. We just can't be like we were. It isn't safe." 

"My God, Dickin. How can you even think I could stand to be near you and not touch you? Bastard! Son of poxed whore!" Alex flinched as if from a blow. "Suka tyzlo'ebuchaya." He snatched up the nearest thing at hand, one of Richard's old trophies and flung it with every bit of strength he had straight at his lover's head missing him by only a hair. Another fountain of incomprehensible outrage spouted out before Alexander whirled on his heel and stormed out of the room. The front door to their apartment slammed a few seconds later with enough force to rattle the pictures on Richard's bedroom wall. 

"Oh my God." Teresa's right hand was clenched at the front of her shirt. She was actually trembling with emotion. "Oh dear Lord in heaven. This is bad." A shiver ran through her. 

"It's okay, Teresa. He'll calm down in a couple of hours and we'll sort this out." Richard promised with more confidence than he felt. "He won't leave it like this. He'll comeback." 

"No. You don't understand." She crouched down and started frantically grabbing after her new husband's discarded clothing. "Get dressed we have to hurry." Fabric flew across the room. 

"What are you talking about. You think he's going to hurt himself?" Richard tugged on the underwear and jeans she tossed at him. Concern pulled his pale brows together and down. 

"No, no. Richard, didn't you hear him? Don't you realise what it means?" 

His blonde head was bowed. A riot of thoughts were beginning to plague his mind. "He was babbling. He does that sometimes." Sharpe didn't want to specify when. It usually involved the kind of sweat-soaked sex that left him quaking for an hour afterward. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it wasn't too late to work something else out. Christ he was going to miss Xander, not only in bed but at his back when they were in the field. If they really wanted him for Team First they might be willing to make a concession or two. 

Teresa's voice interrupted his musings. "We have to go to headquarters. We have to get there fast." She insisted. 

"Why? What's this got to do with Headquarters. I ended it." Richard grimaced, not sure he'd made the right choice despite his earlier certainty. Watching Xander run out the door had hurt more than he'd ever expected it would. "They won." He conceded, a little bitterly. 

"Oh Christ." She sighed. "Your partner, a man privy to high level intelligence missions and secrets that damage the government, just stormed out of here after saying that you were a 'shit for brains, mother-fucking Bastard who was going to regret this day'." Teresa straightened out, a look of dismay marring her strong features. 

Sharpe's head shook in confusion. How the hell had Teresa gotten those words out of that stream of gibberish Alexander had spouted out in his incoherent fury. 

"In Russian, Love." She explained, throwing his shirt at him. "In pristine perfect, ruling class Russian with no discernible accent. Tell me, Richard. Where in his file does it explain how a supposedly country raised Irish man learned to speak like a favoured son of old Mother Russia?" 

"SHITE!" The implications of what his bride was suggesting hit him like a speeding train. Richard attempted to rush doing up his buttons and made a proper mess of entire row. "Oh damn. Are you sure?" 

"Hurry up. Then we have to call the Commander. You'd best prepare yourself for a very long stressful week, Richard." Teresa advised. "Cause this is either some freaking weird fluke or it's the biggest breach of National security in the last ten years." 

Sharpe groaned and snatched after his socks.

* * *

Oh, poor babies. That's it for now. Milk and cookies time. 

Rating: NC-17, plot... very little plot SLASH!!!   
Summary: A Russian mole can only stay under-cover in a foreign territory for so long before something has to give.  
Date: November 1999 Notes: It's England, it's late in 1988. Alex Krycek (from the X-files) infiltrated a British special ops team and is currently working, living and screwing around with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the British series 'Sharpe').   
Disclaimers: The very talented Chris Carter, Fox, Bernard Cornwell, and the various actors, writers and producers own these characters. Thank you for not suing me   
Email—yes please, [email removed]   
Other websites—[broken link removed]   
---


	5. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').

**Part V  
Absolution**

  
The problem with using so many names and playing at so many personalities over too few years was that you tended to splinter slightly inside your own mind. Sometimes, it made for some extensive, rather twisted internal conversations. Over the course of the last few days, Alex had been having one such mental debate with himself on and off. The explosives he'd set had been a study in overkill. The original object of the exercise had been to destroy evidence. Somewhere along the way, however, soon after discovering who was likely to be sent in to disarm the device, Alex convinced himself that a bit of personal pleasure was in order. It had been richly satisfying too. After spending months playing the part of a mindless fuck-toy and whipping post for a circle of sadistic psychopaths in Canada Alex had enjoyed lashing out at someone else for a change.

Still, he couldn't say he was happy right now. Strangely enough Alexei found himself struggling with not only his normal helping of confusions about his recent actions but also feeling mild twinges of a most unfamiliar emotion... guilt. The focal point that this whirlwind of passions pivoted around was sitting on the other side of this darkened pub drinking way too much. Richard Sharpe was attempting to drown his problems in rum and ice.

Lord but Sharpe looked more attractive than a man in his state should. He wore exhaustion and grief better than anyone Alexei had ever met before. The darkness below his eyes and his unshaven state highlighted Richard's finely cut features. His dusty-gold hair was mussed and falling forward in a manner that made Alex's fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch. The man's normally soldier stiff posture had collapsed into a drunken slump.

Sharpe had to be in bad shape not to notice that he'd been under surveillance for more than two days now. Alex was obsessing. He realised that. He knew it was foolish to linger in London without orders. It was idiotic to ghost around the area where so many British agents were concentrated. It was absolutely suicidal to follow Richard around considering their track record but at this very moment Alexei couldn't bring himself to care. At first he'd only wanted to see his former lover, to simply catch a glimpse and take a moment to tell himself that Sharpe wasn't worth the heartache he'd been feeling since they parted. Richard wasn't even his preferred physical type. Alex was constantly on the lookout for a sophisticated, dark-haired beauty like Vasili had been. Unfortunately that one brief look at his golden soldier hadn't extinguished the flames of his desire but instead it had stoked them. Richard was more than a body type. He was the first man that Alex had said 'I love you' to without being under coercion or while attempting to gain an advantage. He was an icon for everything that Alexei wanted but knew he didn't deserve and would never have. It stirred his frozen soul and burned his eyes to even look at his old lover. How could he have walked away from a person that made him feel so alive?

Alexei mentally ticked off yet another shot just as the handsome blonde stacked one more empty glass on the pile in front of him. Well, at least he attempted to stack it. Richard's aim, dulled by four hours in the pub, caused his arm to bump the low tower and sent the small tumblers skittering across the tabletop. The tipsy man's drinking partner was fast enough to keep them from smashing to the floor but dregs of the dark liquid smeared across the surface.

Alex's upper lip curled at the sight, it reminded him to the fact that the brawny, curly haired man was his replacement. He was now the one who had the privilege to stand at Sharpe's back in the field. He was Richard's second, a position Alexei had been forced to abdicate less than a year ago. According to the files Alex had hacked into the bastard's name was Patrick Harper. He and the rest of Sharpe's team were some of the roughest men in special ops. Richard's chance at Command's premier team had been lost last year when it had been discovered that Richard's partner, Alexander Andrews, was a double agent.

The waitress appeared with an empty tray and cleared the table off. Even Alexei, despite being on the far side of the pub, could hear her weary refusal as Sharpe ordered another round. "I'm sorry Richard, but you've had enough." The woman denied his demand. "Why don't you go home and sleep it off?"

Sharpe leaned back. His palms ran up over his eyes and forehead before threading his fingers into his hair. "I don' wanna to go home. S'too quiet there." His northern pronunciations were exaggerated even further by his condition. "I wanna another drink." He amended.

"Come on Major. It's late and I'm tired." Sharpe's second heaved himself up and out of his chair. "You can crash on our couch. Ramona's not like to mind." Harper offered.

The possibility of yet another opportunity slipping away was now thrust into his face. Alexei self-consciously patted the reassuring bulge of his gun inside his jacket then shoved upright. If it meant he'd have to plug a bullet into Harper's brain in order to talk to his Dickin one more time Alex was willing. The barmaid had abandoned the pair of soldiers leaving a vacant spot at Richard's side. Alex ghosted up into that void. Dread twisted the Russian's stomach and his nerves were strung tight against the possible need to flee. He caught Harper's confused glare at the intrusion but dismissed the frown as unimportant. Alex realised what kind of picture he must be presenting with his thuggish black leather clothes, long hair, and hungry expression. Still, unless the bigger man made a threatening move Alex would ignore him. Richard wouldn't approve of an unnecessary murder. Alexei didn't say anything. He simply leaned down to rest against the sticky tabletop and waited to test his former lover's mood.

Richard's gaze finally drifted in the right direction. It caught on the scuffed cuffs of Alex's jacket then followed the shadowy line upward. Harper was squaring his shoulders, preparing for a brawl by the time Sharpe's pale eyes reached the newcomer's face. Richard's brow furrowed and he blinked, absently rubbing his eyes to insure they weren't deceiving him. A fleeting flash of anger clouded his expression before his body collapsed back against the arms of his chair.

"Fuck it. I should kick your ass but I can't be bothered." Richard announced with a dismissive sigh. "What the hell are you doing here, Xander?"

Alex almost grinned at hearing his old nickname pass Richard's lips. He'd feared meeting an impenetrable wall of hostility, had fully intended to batter himself bloody against the other's anger if that's what was required. "I was in Europe." The Russian admitted. "I heard what happened."

"You never liked Teresa, Xander. Cut the crap." Sharpe snapped. His hand reached then clenched at the discovery that no alcohol remained. "I don't need any bullshit sympathy from you." Sharpe caved forward to rest his face in his hands, hiding his expression. "Blew her up." The mumble barely escaped. " How could she die that way? There wasn't a bomb that Teresa couldn't defuse."

Alexei refrained from arguing the obvious. His design had been a masterpiece. It had contained more redundant systems and false timers than the Spanish munitions expert had ever come up against. The device's primary purpose had been to invite tampering then activate. That bitch had taken away Alexei's dreams of hooking up with Richard, of breaking out of his multi-personality life and making a stand. She'd stolen away Alex's first and only love without a wisp of remorse. He considered it only fair that she pay the price for her year of pilfered happiness.

Harper cleared his throat noisily. He was hitching his sleeves in silent warning.

"I'm an old friend of Richard's." Alexei finally acknowledged the other's presence. Now was not the time for fighting with this man. "Krycek." He chose to offer up his most recently acquired alias. "Alex Krycek." His hand extended to Harper. "Nice to meet you." He lied in a falsified American accent.

Narrowed eyes studied the stranger carefully but he consented to shake hands. "Patrick Harper. I work with the Major."

An Irishman, Alex judged. He'd used a lighter version of that same accent during his stint at Richard's side. How cruel was it to give Sharpe an actual Irish second especially when the counterfeit one had ran off? Someone at Command must have laughed their ass off at that little prank. Alexei pulled away from the handshake. "I'll see to Richard from here on out. Why don't you go home?" He dismissed the big man then dropped to a squat beside the blonde's chair. Alexei's voice dropped into a provocative whisper. "I've a car outside, Dickin." His hand coasted up the inside Sharpe's leg. Alex wasn't sure if the tremble he was feeling was his own or Richard's.

"Go away, Xander." Richard shook his head, denying the blaze that had sprung up between them at contact. "I'm not done drinking."

"There's a bar in my hotel room." Alex bribed. "C'mon with me and we'll have a talk. I know you want me to explain some things to you." His chest was aching it was so tight. "Please Dickin."

Richard looked over and snarled. "My wife is dead." He shifted, ineffectively attempting to halt the other's intrusive caress under the table.

"I know." Alexei stated flatly. I killed her. The temptation was there to mouth the customary 'I'm sorry' but he couldn't force that particular lie out of his tight throat. Besides, Richard would never believe the sentiment.

"Like you care." Sharpe accused.

"You want me to take you home, Major?" Harper continued to linger, attempting to decide for himself whether his friend needed his help with the newcomer or not.

"I loved her." The declaration seemed to come out of nowhere. "You were wrong, Xander. I really did love her." His tone was vaguely desperate, attempting to convince either Alex or himself. "I know what you thought. It wasn't like that. Not completely." He sighed, looking reluctantly into the younger man's eyes for the first time. The Englishman's hand lifted and his fingertips brushed across Alex's jaw. "You shouldn't be here, pretty Xander." Richard warned.

The gentle contact set off fireworks under his skin. Richard still wanted him. "I couldn't stay away any longer. I didn't want to stay away this long." Alex whispered urgently, trying to get across how frantic he was with only his voice and his fingers stroking up the denim of the other's inner leg. "I didn't want to leave. It was a mistake, Dickin. Both of us made mistakes but we could've worked through it. I was just so angry." He should have stayed to fight Teresa for Richard's affection when their rivalry came to a head. How could he have been so stupid, so emotionally volatile? He'd blown the opportunity of a lifetime. "Oh God, please Dickin, give me some of your time." Alexei rocked forward onto his toes to press his cheek against the elder man's sleeve. "I've missed you so much."

The caress began tentatively but Richard's fingers slid up to tease through Alexei's fine, dark hair. "I've missed you too, sweet thing." He finally admitted.

Harper made a grumpy, growling sound at the unexpected intimacy the two men were showing towards each other then withdrew, leaving them alone. He crossed the room to loaf at the bar, still wary of what was occurring.

"You shouldn't even be in England, Xander." Sharpe repeated. "Pat may not know who you are but...shite, Baby. They'll lock you up and throw away the key if they find out you're here."

"You gonna rat me out, Soldier boy?" Alexei's laugh held a hint of nervousness. He was in London without permission from his boss. If Nicki had to bail him out of trouble because of this little escapade there would be hell to pay.

Richard continued to ramble. "They'll bust me down to scrubbing piss stalls if they find out I saw yer and didn't turn yer in. They'll fuckin' disappear me. They almost did when it came out 'xactly who yer were. Nicola Romanov's protégé. My second in command... a bloody Russian mafia Prince. How could you tell me such lies? How could you leave me to face that kind of shit-storm?" He stalled out in the middle of his diatribe to stare down at the other. He gasped down a mouthful of air as Alex's hand worked mischief in the darkness under the table. "Teresa burned up everything you left behind, destroyed every picture I had of yer, Xander. Command has me locked out of yer file. Son'bitch, I'd forgotten how bloody stunning you were." Sharpe traced a reverent finger over his former lover's parted lips, which Alexei obediently sucked into his mouth. "God, I missed you. I'd wake up aching, screamin' yer name. Teresa would smash things and storm out. I looked but you'd disappeared. I almost quit the Force but I couldn't find hide 'ner hair of you and Teresa, well she...Christ I've missed you, Baby."

The Russian shivered and eased back slightly, releasing Sharpe's finger with nip of teeth on skin. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. "Come back to my hotel with me, Dickin." Alexei pleaded. "Nobody has to know this time. Just vanish with me for a few days. No Romanov shit. No Forces shit. Just you and me for a couple of days. You could tell them you don't remember anything after you got drunk. We won't talk if that's what you want. We'll just fuck each other raw then I'll go away."

Richard's left hand shot out to tighten painfully, digging into the worn leather covering Alex's shoulder. "I don't want you to leave." He hissed. "You'll stay. You said you wanted to stay with me before. I was so stupid. I won't let you go this time."

"You know it's more complicated than that, Dickin-honey." Alexei murmured. "Just come back to my room, Lover. We'll think in the morning." He rose, pulling the older man up with him. "C'mon Gorgeous. I've missed you so much." Walking backwards, Alexei drew Sharpe towards the door. He spared a brief glance to assure himself that Harper was taking no alarm at the situation then led the blonde out into the night.

* * *

Richard remained strangely quiet during the trip to Alexei's hotel. The soldier kept his eyes and one of his hands on his former lover for most of the voyage. Even through the lobby and in the elevator Sharpe was unwilling to relinquish his grip as if he feared the other man would vanish into smoke. The continuous contact raised a few eyebrows but Alex didn't even consider complaining about the possessive action, instead he let the sensation wrap around him like a warm blanket.

The silence continued until the door to Alexei's room was safely closed and the rest of the world bolted out. Alex leaned against the barricade to reality and stared across at the man who'd been haunting his dreams for so long now. "If you still need it... there really is a bar." He gestured absently over Richard's shoulder.

Sharpe head shook briefly and he pressed tightly into the younger man's body, sharing Alex's breath. "Bed." Their lips didn't quite brush.

That single word, Richard's first since leaving the pub sent a wracking shiver down Alexei's spine. He arched into the other's body as if lightening had struck. The urge to babble pressed at the back of his throat but Alex had swore to himself that no Russian would pass his lips to remind Sharpe of who he really was. "This way." He edged past, drawing Richard after him into the dimly illuminated suite. Alex was light-headed from a lack of oxygen by the time they reached the side of the massive mattress. He had to remind himself to breath. So much could go wrong with a single misspoken word from either of them. "Dickin."

"Baby." Richard's hands slid inside Alex's jacket to smooth across his ribs, up his shoulder and brush away the covering garment. It hit the floor with a dull thud and Alexei found himself wrapped into a crushing embrace.

The Russian pressed his face into the feathery blonde hair and inhaled. Their time apart dissolved as the familiar scent of his lover filled his lungs. Alex clung, squeezing his eyes tightly shut to better appreciate the heat of Richard's lean frame against his own.

It couldn't last. Alcohol stole Sharpe's strength while impatience tore at Alexei. When Richard tugged, indicating he needed to sit down Alex let him. The Russian then proceeded, with eager fingers, to rip away the fabric covering the skin he'd missed so much. Richard's jacket peeled away with little struggle, as did the heavy shirt he wore.

"Stop. Take off 'your' clothes first, Xander." The complete sentence was a shock despite how soft Sharpe's voice was. "Strip for me." Richard moved to lay back on the dark bedspread and stared up his companion.

"Anything you want." The offer came so easily to his lips even after all this time. Alexei backed up a few steps, placing himself in the thin glow that came in through the wide windows. The spy sucked in a deep breath and held it. He concentrated on relaxing his tightly strung muscles into a looser, more inviting posture. Most of his weight settled to one side allowing the opposite hip to jut out. Alex skated his palms up the outside of his legs then coasted them over his sharp hips. He gave in to the urge to groan out his excitement and thrust slightly into the sparse contact. The button on his pants flicked open easily. Grabbing two handfuls of fabric Alex began teasing the ebony fabric of his shirt up to reveal pale skin. The turtleneck briefly snagged at his chin but a good hard tug soon freed him. The action left his shaggy hair dishevelled, falling into his eyes. He let the material fall nearby rather than flinging it away.

"Pretty thing." Richard commented in a breathy whisper.

Alex scraped his bangs back attempting to toss the untidy mess into place. His hair had never been this long before but his last assignment had required it. Alexei then let his fingertips trail down once more. He paused to pinch his stiffened nipples and let out a faint sigh of pleasure. While his hands roamed over his ribs and chest Alex shifted foot to foot in order to toe off his short boots. When the edge of one of his nails dug in to leave a long reddened welt from his nipple to his belly button it caused a thick hiss of arousal.

Alexei peered from under his lashes to see if the performance was affecting Richard as much as himself. The soldier was laying sprawled on the wide bed, arms thrown wide in a careless posture but he was far from indifferent to the younger man. Sharpe's light eyes were glittering fiercely in the half-light of the bedroom and his hips were rocking almost unconsciously, displaying the tightness across his groin.

"Keep going, Sweet thing." Richard encouraged. "Show me how bad you want it."

"Bastard." Alexei cursed in an undertone making the older man chuckle. He turned away and stretched expansively, reaching for the ceiling to show off the definition of his back then bending to remove his socks and display his ass. Staying turned away, Alex straightened and the sound of his zipper coming down was all the act Richard was gifted with for a few moments. The Russian massaged his erection and squirmed his leather pants down past his hips with his back still turned.

"Show me." The blonde on the bed demanded, a little louder this time. "Let me see you, Xander baby."

Alexei turned in place, pulling his trousers down with snaking squirms. He was loosing patience with this part of the game. He wanted to lay hands on Richard not himself. Alex kicked out of the last of his clothes and jumped to land on the foot of the large bed. In a final nod to Sharpe's request he knelt up and struck a pose before laughing and crawling up the other man's body. "I'll show you how much I want you, you Bastard." The threat growled out as Richard continued to lay passively under him. Alexei snapped with his teeth, catching the collar of the other's t-shirt and lifting it away from his skin. Supporting himself on his knees the Russian caught hold of the thin fabric and put all his strength into splitting it apart. The angry tearing noise made Sharpe's hips buck up, pressing his groin hard to Alex's.

Shoving back the torn edges of shirt Alexei swooped down and latched his mouth onto one of Richard's nipples while his fingers set to memorizing every angle and curve of his shoulders, chest and ribs once more. Alex bit down just enough to provoke a tiny groan of protest then used his tongue to apologise for the spike of pain. He ran his mouth across the heaving chest, lapping up stale sweat eagerly along the way. Richard's second nipple received the same treatment. Alex's chin dug in slightly as he looked up to gauge his lover's reaction. "You like?"

"Hmm...Yeah."

Richard's smile was like a blessing. Alexei felt light-headed and bursting with exhilaration. His mouth watered uncontrollably and he fell to feasting on the salty skin laid out before him once more. Nothing had tasted this good since his last morning in Richard's bed. Nothing had felt this good in so long it almost made him cry. "Want you. Need you." Alex whispered against the hot flesh. "Wanna spend the rest of my life worshipping your cock."

"Jesus, Xander." Sharpe shuddered underneath him.

"Missed you." Alexei buried his face in the curve of his lover's throat, practically burrowing into the other man. Following the line of skin up his tongue was soon flickering over Richard's ear and the sensitive skin behind it. Simple English couldn't convey enough. "Mon soldat d'or. Je t'aime." Surely Dickin couldn't object to French. He likely even understood it to some degree. "Je veux restes avec tu."

Richard moaned, arching into the contact. "Xander, precious."

The endearment pulled at Alexei's attention, drawing him away from his feasting so he could look into the older man's eyes. His hands skimmed up, tangling into Richard's hair and pulling their mouths together. As wondrous as Sharpe's skin had been to taste nothing compared to kissing his lover. Alex undulated against the slick body under him clutching at Richard so as little space as humanly possible remained between them. He licked across those succulent lips tasting before pressing their mouths together. Sharpe was almost grinning at the fervour his lover was displaying. Alexei smiled back then nipped.

"Vicious beast." Richard accused gently.

Alex chuckled and pressed for contact again. He licked, attempting to part Sharpe's lips. When Richard's mouth opened under his Alexei groaned and attempted to draw the other's soul out through the contact. His tongue flicked inside to taste every bit of Sharpe's essence. He sucked, urging his lover to return the intimacy. A low whine came from Alex's throat. The Russian continued to mash their lips together until the need for air demanded they separate. "Love you." He proclaimed breathlessly. "Loved you since that first time in the library." More desperate kisses were stolen. "Gonna make you feel so good. Move like..." Alex snatched after pillows and wrestled Richard into a slightly elevated position.

Once the older man was settled comfortably Alexei returned to licking his entire torso while moving his hands to pluck at Sharpe's jeans. "Need more skin." It was almost like a wrestling match dragging the creased denim off Richard while not wanting to draw too far away. When one sock was flung away and Alex sucked a toe into the heat of his mouth the soldier let out a surprised yelp. He repeated the action on the other foot then worked his way up the blonde's long legs. His hands slipped inside the leg openings to knead at the slick skin while he wetly mouthed the front of Richard's underwear.

"Bloody hell." The soldier cursed and his hand dropped down to curve around the younger man's skull. Richard was rock hard and straining the thin material. The head of his erection poked up from under the waistband yearning for more direct stimulation. His legs were trembling despite the weight on them.

"Gorgeous." Alexei announced reverently. His hands cupped the other's balls inside the dampening shorts. "I remember the smell of you. I would dream about it and wake up so hot it hurt." He murmured. "Nobody filled me up like you." Alex curled his hands into the underwear from the inside and dragged it down and off. "Filled my body." His palms slid back up, massaging as they moved. "Tu aves rempli mon ame." The Russian gazed up into Richard's face attempting to convey his adoration. The emotion he saw there was almost satisfying enough. His dark green eyes dropped back down to the nude body under him.

Sharpe's erection bobbed, leaking precum like an invitation. Alexei wrapped a hand around the base to steady it and lapped at the hot liquid. Richard let out a strangled shout and slammed a fist down. "Please Xander, do it."

Alexei licked his lips to wet them then opened his mouth and swallowed the other to the root in one slick motion. The satisfaction he got from sucking Richard down was primal. The trust suggested by this act combined with a weird sense of worship he felt hit the Russian at an elementary level. Alex squeezed his eyes shut tight and concentrated on his other senses; Sharpe's hitching gasps, the way Richard's pubic hair tickled his nose, the strong aroma filling his nostrils.

When his partner started to shiver in anticipation of a quick release Alex pulled off and lowered his attentions. He mouthed first one then the other of Richard's balls, soaking and softening them.

"Tease." Sharpe accused weakly, without really meaning it. It hadn't been so long that he'd forgotten that Alex liked to draw him to the edge and back several times before coming through. Feet flat on the bedspread, Richard edged his legs wider apart and his hips tipped up. He was silently inviting a particular act that he never, in all their time together, verbally requested.

Alexei drew back slightly, wiping his dripping chin against the inside of Richard's leg. His eyes drifted open. His cheek was rubbing, catlike, against the lightly furred, dampened skin of that same inner leg. "Dickin?" Alex blew a bit of warm air across the weeping erection in front of him. "Dickin, me darlin''?"

Sharpe's response was slow in coming and strangled with emotion. "What?"

Alex trailed a finger down the crease, brushing it across the entrance to the older man's body. "You've such a fine ass, mon soldat d'or. Can I taste it?"

Richard let out a thick, wordless moan and spread his legs even further apart. At the first touch of Alexei's tongue a shudder hard enough to rock the bed under them tore through his prone form.

Alex made a delighted sound and pressed harder, pushing inside the older man. He had to grab hold of Sharpe to keep him from convulsing away from the action. When Vasili had first forced him into doing this years ago Alexei had hated it, vomiting afterward, but doing it to Richard was something entirely different. Hearing the hiss of desire it provoked and feeling the soul-shaking trembling under his fingers shot such a thick surge of pleasure through Alex he couldn't resist. The taste didn't even bother him anymore. It was completely intoxicatingly Dickin.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch. XANDER!" Sharpe screamed out, clawing the bedspread and attempting to arch off the mattress.

Alexei hung on, fucking his lover with his tongue and breathing erratically through his nose. He continued until Richard was rigid as steel, right on the edge, then pulled his face away abruptly. Alex used one hand to force the older man back down onto the bed and the other to squeeze hard at the base of Richard's erection, confining his balls to prevent release. "Don't you dare!" The Russian warned in a voice that could make hardened criminals' wet their pants.

"Motherfucker!" Sharpe cursed him, almost whimpering.

"Been there. Done that." The spy admitted, crawling up the other's body. "Like fucking with you better." Still containing Richard's near orgasm he demanded a kiss, clamping down on the panting mouth below him.

Sharpe surged to life with a vengeance. His arms, which had been thrown wide, wrapped up and around Alexei, squeezing desperately. They rolled and the younger man was pinned down to the bed. Richard seized control of the kiss, shoving his tongue into Alex's mouth and almost biting him. He shifted from holding to mauling the body under him. His thumbs dug into pale flesh, bruising one hip and the soft skin below Alexei's right ear. The Russian went practically limp under his ferocious assault.

The kiss broke with a snarl and Richard dragged his mouth across the other's cheek, down his chin and burrowed into his throat where his teeth finally broke skin.

Alex yelped, threw his head back even further and his spine bowed up to dig his hips into his lover. "Do it! Mark me, Dickin. Own me." He babbled, his earlier vow shredded. "Ya liubliu tebia, moi Dickin. Ebat, ya khachoo tebia." Alexei let out a tearing moan as the older man suckled at the blood his efforts had brought the surface.

Sharpe's mouth drew away and he slammed Alex flat down on to the bed by sitting on him. The Russian watched through watering eyes as Richard's tongue flicked out and cleaned up a faint smear of red from his lips. The sight made him quake. They held stares only a moment before that blonde head dropped once more, this time to latch onto one of Alexei's tight nipples. The Russian barely felt the hand that forced his tense legs to part. Sharpe's fingers ran a quick swipe up and over Alex's cock, not giving any friction, merely collecting the moisture seeping out. He couldn't miss the pressure at his ass however as one damp fingertip pressed, demanding entrance. Richard immediately distracted him by clamping down with his teeth on the small nub in his mouth. Alexei didn't hear his own scream; he just knew that his throat was suddenly raw from use.

"Dickin, ty svoloch!" His voice was torn up as if he'd been swallowing gravel. "You absolute bastard." Alex repeated, almost crying for lack of knowing how to process all the emotions ripping through him. Another finger attempted to push into him making him squeak with pain. "Slick! In the night table. I can't take... Sukin syn! Use some grease, Dickin." He insisted urgently. Alexei hadn't expected things to go this far when he'd gotten dressed earlier. He hadn't prepared himself for this.

"I'm so stupid." Richard swore vividly, pulling away and lunging for the drawer at the side of the wide bed. It used to be that his younger lover came to him already slicked. Time had blurred details and he'd forgotten the simple facts of having sex with another man.

Alexei squirmed as his lover's weight lifted away, turning over onto his stomach. As much as he'd love to look into the other's face as they fucked Alex wanted depth and power even more. He heard the night table drawer crash to the floor and Sharpe cursing a low steady stream made almost incomprehensible by the thickness of his accent. Alex dropped his shoulders to the bed, shoving his ass up without modesty, falling unconsciously into a pose his first instructor had beaten into him.

"Oh my God." Sharpe's body shifted on the mattress as he turned back to his lover. He froze, inhaling loudly. "Bloody hell, Xander. Mercy." The next touch he laid on Alexei was staggering in its gentleness. Warm fingers reverently traced the straining curve of the Russian's spine. "So beautiful." Richard's hands ran up and down as if he were a blind man attempting to feel the lines of a sculpture.

"Don't." Alex whispered. "Don't do this to me." His protest was weak and he made no move to back up the complaint physically. His body felt heavy and completely un-muscled under the caresses Sharpe laid on him. He'd expected a few brief stretches then penetration. Richard's suddenly transformed attitude was unhinging him.

"I wish you could see yer'self, Xander... Angel." The older man whispered. He planted a kiss on Alex's tailbone. "You're so fuckin' stunning like this." Another kiss landed lower, just at the top of ass-crease. Palms skimmed across his ribs, spine and cheeks. "I never told yer back then. I should have told yer how I felt. I just didn't realise how much..."

"Stop." If he heard the words right now they would shatter him. Alex couldn't bear it. He tensed as if to escape but a gentle press on his back held him in the blatantly submissive position.

"Sweet, lovely..." Richard's breath was hot and laden with moisture, tickling right across the dark, puckered opening to Alexei's body and his completely exposed perineum. "Should've done...should've made you understand." He kissed first, making the Russian gasp and buck, then Sharpe's wet tongue flicked out and across the sensitive skin.

"JUST FUCK ME, DAMN IT!" Alexei wailed, his fingers digging into the material and his entire body vibrating in reaction to the unexpected intimacy. "Please Dickin, oh please. I can't hold it back."

"Shush." The soldier soothed. "It's okay, Sweet thing. I got yer." Slippery fingers replaced steamy breath and Sharpe eased cooling lubricant into his lover. "Open up for me, Xander. Lemmie in." He murmured. "I remember, Baby. I remember how much you liked me to talk to you." Richard indulged him. "I never gave you everthin' you needed from me. I fucked up so bad." He admitted. "But you should have come clean with me, Sweet thing." His fingers twisted, drawing a groan of pleasure from the man in front of him. "Everything you ever told me was a lie."

"Nyet." Alex protested. "No, no, no." He corrected, forcing himself back to English. "I didn't lie about what was between us, Dickin. Swear to God. Nobody told me to fuck you. I wanted you so bad. Just for me, I wanted you. Aaah!" Alexei bucked and tried to widen his stance even further but this exact position allowed no freedom of movement. That was the primary reason Vasili had liked it so much.

"All that time and I never knew who the hell you were." Richard persisted but as much as his words accused his fingers brought only blinding pleasure. "Now I know and I don't fuckin' care."

Sharpe's body shifted into position and the taunting touch withdrew making Alexei whimper at the loss. "Do me, Dickin. I can't wait any more. Pazhaluysta. Hurry up."

"Promise me. No more lies, Sweet thing." Richard demanded calmly as his cock finally eased into the younger man's body. He moved slowly, stretching out above the other as he thrust further in. One hand ran up Alexei's spine and tangled into the long, dark hair. The other circled down and under the Russian's waist. "Whoever you are, whatever you are... we'll work around it. I won't give this up again. I won't give you up again. Christ, Xander. You feel so good." Sharpe's hips rocked taking him deeper with every push.

Alex simply hissed out his delight, unable to form coherent words. When Richard's grip moved and the younger man was dragged up to his knees a moan rattled through his chest.

"Xander." Sharpe whispered right at his lover's ear. The hand that had been at Alex's waist drifted up to stroke over his chest. The other trailed down Alexei's neck, shoulder, ribs and hip to finally reach forward and wrap around the younger man's stiff erection. Their precarious balance wouldn't allow for hard thrusting but Richard continued to rock his hips. Alexei's head fell backwards to rest on Sharpe's shoulder. "This what you want, Baby?" Richard's hand coaxed more slippery precum out to ease the friction. "I can do this all night." He bragged.

Alexei's mouth hung open. He gasped with each jarring stroke, reaching back to pull their bodies even tighter together. "Mein Kostbar. Ich liebe dich." No, damn, wrong language. That was two weeks ago. His brain refused to process properly. Explosions were firing off randomly inside his head. "Moi zolotoj soldat. Nuzhdat'sya v chto-libo." Time was stretching and pulling like elastic. Maybe Richard had told the truth. Hours must be shredding away while his mind melted. The slow steady slide of flesh on flesh inside and in front of him was setting his entire body aflame. How had he dragged himself away from this exquisite man? How had he lived without these sensations for so many months?

Alex distantly realised he begun whining like a bitch in heat while his thoughts had spiralled out of control but he couldn't stop himself. His head rolled back and forth with every gliding shove. It was taking too long, this was going to kill him it was so wonderful. Alex's nails dug into his lover's hips demanding more. "My gorgeous golden soldier." That phrase hit it's mark finally and Alexei was rewarded with a hooking shove that made his body spasm with pleasure.

"Whacha want, Xander baby? You want it harder?" Richard's hand squeezed suddenly, punctuating his question.

"Da. Yeah. Yes!" Alexei scrambled after coherence. "Yes. Harder, Love. Fuck me blind, Dickin." He begged. "Fuck me harder." His body writhed, making him difficult to hold.

Without releasing his grip on Alex's cock, Richard shifted his other arm to shove the younger man back down to his hands and knees. Sweat was dripping off of Sharpe's forehead to splash against his lover's back. Alex could have sworn every drop sizzled and evaporated upon striking his skin.

Richard had fallen silent, unable to speak between gulps of air. The movement of his hips was vicious enough to push Alexei up towards the head of the bed. His tormenting hand was demanding that the younger man rush toward completion. "Come." The single word panted out, an order.

The crown of Alexei's scalp bumped into the headboard just as his orgasm began slicing through his body. The Russian screamed, his frame wracking into convulsions. A distant sensation of pain came from his hips but it was subsumed by the violent pleasure tearing through him.

Consciousness had to have deserted him at one point because his next clear impression was laying flat with his back pasted to the skin of Richard's chest and stomach. Their bodies had yet to separate and Alexei couldn't imagine he wanted that to happen anytime soon.

"Lovely, sexy, beautiful baby." Sharpe's voice lapped over him like warm ocean waves offering up a steady stream of almost nonsensical compliments. He was petting Alexei with one hand while the other held them tight together. "...tight in my arms forever." Richard's breath fluttered the fine hair by Alex's ear.

"Mmm...this is nice." The Russian murmured, acknowledging the embrace by snuggling back into it. His eyes were heavy but sleeping would be such an incredible waste of the brief time he could allow himself to remain in this living dream.

Richard's lips curved against his lover's skin and his hug tightened.

* * *

At times Alexei wondered that his bones didn't audibly creak from the punishment he'd put them through. It was best they didn't however for if the sound were to wake Richard his overdue departure would be delayed yet again. Over the last two days the spy had tried several times already to drag himself away from the deceptive sanctuary of their hotel room. When Sharpe's piercingly clear eyes pinned him Alex simply lost all will to return to reality but if he dallied much longer his boss would take it out on his hide.

Earlier that day Alex and Richard had skirted the edge of a fight when the suggestion of ending the tryst had came up. Both of them knew they couldn't afford to steal any more time away but the idea of separation physically pained them both.

It was his place to make the break, Alexei realised. Sharpe might lose his job if this went on any longer but Alex was under the threat of torture and possibly death. If Nicki discovered the extent of her protégé's obsession with his British lover she would break her whip over his back. That kind of distraction simply was not permitted within the Family. It was an exploitable weakness.

He written a note while Richard had been in the bathroom this morning. There was little to the missive beyond the address of a safe mail drop Alex had in New York and the simple phrase 'I love you'. He didn't even sign it. There hadn't been time for more before Sharpe had re-emerged, dripping from a hurried shower to drag Alexei back down onto the soiled sheets for yet another session of soul-destroying sex.

So a single sheet of hotel stationary weighed down by a token offering, his favourite leather jacket, was all the Russian left for his beloved. It had to be enough, at least until next time, Alexei promised himself as he silently pulled the door closed behind him.

Now wasn't that just the thing to chase away a Canadian winter chill? 

* * *

Cocoa and cookies time.   
I suppose some translations are in order this episode since Alex was babbling in tongues. Here's some mangled Russian, French and German.

Mon soldat d'or. Je t'aime = my golden soldier. I love you   
Je veux restes avec tu. = I want to stay with you   
Tu aves rempli mon ame = you fill my soul   
Ya liubliu tebia, moi Dickin = I love you, my Dickin   
Ebat, ya khachoo tebia = fuck, I need you   
ty svoloch = you bastard   
Sukin syn = son of a bitch   
Pazhaluysta = please   
Mein Kostbar. Ich liebe dich = My precious. I love you   
Moi zolotoj soldat = my golden soldier   
Nuzhdat'sya v chto-libo = I need it

  


Address: [email removed]   
Rating: very NC-17 Slash—male/male sex   
Summary: An alternate universe X-files/Sharpe crossover. Former lovers forgive some transgressions and come to an understanding. Naughty stuff happens.   
Date: January 2000  
Notes: It's England. It's 1989. For just over half a year a Russian spy, Alex Krycek (from the X- files), worked within a British special ops team. Some time ago his lover/team-partner dumped him in order to marry a woman for the sake of appearances. That event prompted Alex to blow off his cover and leave England. That lover, an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the British series 'Sharpe') suffered career damage because of the affair with the double agent. Oh gosh, it has more than one scene to it this time !!! This is the fifth story in my pwp series 'Sharpe's Scoundrel'. The previous tales are archived on my homepage at:   
<http://members.dencity.com/CarlaJane/homepage.html>   
Disclaimers: Chris Carter, Fox, Bernard Cornwell, and the various actors, writers and producers own these characters. I don't. I just like playing with these two guys. No harm intended, 'kay?  
At this point I would like to direct virtual hugs and kisses in the general direction of my beta readers, Erika and RazZadig. They did a lovely job cleaning up less than admirable grammer and pointing out where corrective attention was required.   
Okay, on with the fun stuff...   
---


	6. Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').

**Part VI  
Tryst **

  
Damn it all! Jane was charming. 

She was charming Patrick and the other lads on Richard Sharpe's team, the Essex squad. Even quiet, ever-suspicious Hagman was falling under her spell. Jane was charming Pat's wife Ramona, who was no fool for a pretty face like the guys were. Every single person at the party seemed to have fallen under the spell of Richard's girlfriend. The situation should've made him happy. Didn't every man enjoy being the object of good-natured envy? 

"Are you gonna marry your way up the ranks, Richard?" One of his fellow officers joked between sips of beer. "Smart move. It's about time you put some effort into sprucing up your career." 

The simple fact that this lot were even in attendance at his house-warming party was a homage to Jane's influence. Jane's uncle was a power to reckoned within Command and her brother was team leader of the most prestigious squad working out of Central Command. People in the organization had, in the past, ducked into doorways and empty interrogation rooms to avoid speaking to any member of squad Essex. Sharpe's lot were considered the bottom of the social heap by almost everyone in British special ops. Yet here those same snobs were, standing around in Richard and Jane's new home. Well, technically it was just Sharpe's, but considering the woman had only gone home to her flat two nights out of the last three months she might as well live here. 

Richard knew he should be pleased with the situation but darker emotions kept gnawing at him. 

Somewhere amid the dull hum of conversation a phone rang. Voices dropped dutifully. Most of the people here were used to phone calls cutting into their lives and putting everything on hold. Jane smiled and picked up the receiver with a light- hearted 'hello' just as Richard got within arm's reach of the ringing device. 

Headquarters requesting to speak to one of the officers would have caused an indulgent sigh and Jane would've summoned whomever was needed. A salesman would have earned a quick hang-up. Family, well, most of her family was here and he had none. Sharpe could only think of only one thing that would distort Jane's pretty features into such tightly pinched disgust and pure malice. Her angry glare pinned Richard, who couldn't help but feel a flare of hot delight blazing through his body. 

"He's busy." She snarled into the phone and hung up without hesitation. Jane shot a frown at Richard that dared her boyfriend to make any comment on her behaviour. She visibly shook herself back into the mood that the phone call had interrupted and turned to their guests with a beaming smile. "Christian!" Jane called out to her brother in a far too jovial voice. "You simply must tell me more about that new polo horse you bought yourself." She paced off in a cloud of sweet perfume. 

Richard stared down at the telephone just a few seconds longer. Exhilaration and terror ravaged inside of him. He knew that look Jane had flung at him. His beautiful, dangerous Xander had called. 

* * *

Richard let it lie for the length of the party and all through the clean up that followed. In return, Jane kept up her company-smile and pleasant mood. Still, when bedtime approached and the telephone didn't ring again, Sharpe was forced into broaching the volatile topic. 

When Jane emerged from the bathroom in one of those long, frilled up, silk nightgowns she was so fond of wearing she found Richard leaning in the bedroom door, still dressed. Her delicate features pulled into a frown. She knew what was coming. 

"Who called earlier, Jane?" Sharpe began. 

"No one." She flounced across the room and practically threw herself onto the bed. "I'm tired, Richard. Turn out the lights." 

"What did he say?" 

Jane's nose wrinkled and she made another attempt to play dumb. "What did WHO say? There were so many people here I can't keep every conversation straight." She rushed on to prevent another question. "Wasn't it wonderful? You were such a hit. I've convinced Christian to intercede on your behalf with the Commander. Your next mission won't be a waste of your talent, Richard darling. They'll give you something worthy of you and your team. Maybe if you get a proper bonus out of it we could buy that Porsche, the silver one. I simply can't keep driving my car. It's falling apart." 

"Alexander." Sharpe cut into her stream of breathy statements. "That was Alexander on the phone. What did he say? Where is he?" 

"Why do you care?" Jane snapped back, pouting. "He blows into your life causing nothing but trouble then disappears for weeks on end without a second thought." She offered up her opinion. "He's no kind of friend, Richard darling." 

Sharpe had to work to keep from shouting. "What did he say?" 

A theatrical shudder was offered up for his benefit. "And don't think I don't know what the two of you do together. I'm not blind, Richard. I can't help but see the marks he leaves on you." Her chin lifted and her bottom lip jutted out. "It's unnatural." Jane hissed. "It's disgusting." 

"Is he here in the city?" Sharpe persevered. He didn't want to argue about this yet again with his girlfriend. In every other regard Jane was fine to have around and Richard got lonely in the stretches between Xander's visits and his own missions. "Please Jane. Just tell me." If only he'd been able to keep her in the dark about his other relationship, but it had been impossible. She'd caught hold of a few scraps of information and had torn at them like a determined terrier until Richard had been forced to tell her about Xander. Sharpe hadn't been prepared for the shrill level of hostility the revelation had caused. His late wife, Teresa, hadn't liked Alexander but she'd grudgingly put up with him. 

Her tactics altered abruptly. "Oh Richard." She sighed deeply, making her ample breasts strain inside their sheer cocoon. "You don't need to see him." Jane laid herself out decoratively. "Don't I make you happy?" 

"Bloody hell, Jane. Just tell me what Alexander said." His teeth gritted. 

"He'll just fuck up your life again. You're an absolute grouch to be around when he leaves. It's horrid. I won't put up with it." 

Richard crossed his arms and stared. "You don't understand." It was altogether too tempting for him to wrap his fingers around her pale throat at this moment. 

"Explain to me how having an affair with an international criminal is a good thing, Richard." Jane yanked the blankets open on their bed. "Yes. I've found out all about him. We secretaries have access to more classified information than you soldiers think we do." She stated smugly. "He's evil. What you do with him is evil. At the very least you're committing treason." She crawled across the bed to sit on the edge of it. Her face tipped so she could look up at him. "At worst it's a mortal sin. That 'creature' kills people for money. If Command could lay hands on the nasty little beast they would try him as a spy. He would likely sell your whole team to the highest bidder if it were convenient. Don't you dare go to him this time, Richard. I don't want to have to tell Uncle Henry about this." Her eyes glittered a warning. Jane climbed gracefully to her feet and padded over to embrace her lover to ease the malice in her threat. "Break it off before word of it leaks out and ruins you any further, Richard my dearest." Her hug grew crushing. "Come to bed, Darling. It's been such a long day." Soft lips pressed into Sharpe's collar. "We're expected at my family's house tomorrow. I think they're anticipating a wedding announcement from us now that you've bought this house for me, Richard. Maybe we could go to Paris for our honeymoon. I dearly like some new outfits and we could bring home some of that marvellous wine that Uncle Henry enjoys so much." 

Richard's mouth was hanging open at the veiled threat behind her words but Jane took no offence at the expression. She simply kissed his lower lip and backed up, pulling him closer to the bed. 

* * *

All the next day Jane was quick to snatch after the telephone when it began ringing. She'd been hovering over it. So far every call had been for her but that hadn't dulled her temper. "Hello." She began warily. 

Richard fiddled in the kitchen cupboard, rummaging longer than necessary for a glass when he usually drank his beer right out of the bottle. Pale green eyes studied Jane's reaction as covertly as possible. He could practically see ice crystals forming in the air about her, even as fire ignited under his own skin. His body reacted to even the suggestion Alexander's presence. It seemed that lately even a passing glimpse of a dark haired man in black leather and denim made him hard. 

"No. You can't." She snipped out. Her lip curled and her gaze flicked over to see if Richard was paying attention. When she realised he was, Jane's eyes narrowed to warning slits. Carefully painted fingernails flicked, warning him out of the room. "It doesn't matter. He's not coming." A growl underscored her words. "He'll never meet you any more and if you ever contact him again I'll see to it that the call is traced and you're arrested. Is that clear?" Something Xander said on the other end of the line must have shocked Jane, because she physically flinched in reaction. "You filthy animal. You wouldn't dare! Do you know who my brother is?" A hiss escaped her. "Don't call again. Don't you ever call my Richard again." The receiver slammed down hard and a vicious little smirk curved her lips. "So that's that." Jane announced. "He seems to think you'll just come running to Germany because he whistles for you. You won't." 

Sharpe's blond brows pulled together but he didn't respond aloud. 

"Do I have to take your passport, Richard?" 

"I'm not a child." He snapped more spitefully than he'd intended, slamming the glass down and walking out of the kitchen. Germany. It wasn't enough information anyway. Sharpe threw himself down onto the sofa. 

"We've things to do." Jane called out. She'd been putting everything off until the situation could be resolved. "Christian invited us out to dinner." She posed in the doorway. "I'd like it if you'd come out with me." 

His only response was a glower. 

"Fine!" She swirled around. "Stay here and pout. I might even spend the night at my flat if your manners don't improve, Richard." Jane threatened. "Maybe sleeping alone in a cold bed would remind you what I mean to you." Confident he wasn't about to go anywhere now, Jane grabbed her purse and the keys to his car. "I'm going to need petrol. Is your card in the glove-box?" She called out. 

Sharpe yanked his billfold out of his pocket and flung it at her. "Take whatever you want. I don't care." 

Jane frowned. His annoyance didn't stop her from scooping up the wallet and taking it with her, however. Richard kicked out at the small table in front of him, knocking it over. He was tempted to go out and get falling down drunk but he'd foolishly given her all his money and credit cards. Small mercy there should be enough booze left over from the party yesterday to give him a decent buzz. Sharpe pushed upright and stomped back into the kitchen. 

The roar of his car's engine was barely dulled down when the trill of the telephone startled him. He stared at it through three rings before cautiously lifting it to his ear. "Yeah?" 

"Zdravstvuyte moi soldat zolotoj." 

Alex's voice poured into his ear heating him better than any alcohol ever could. "My God. Xander, angel, precious. I'm sorry about that." Sharpe leaned back against the counter, his eyes closing to enjoy the other's honeyed tones. 

"No problem, Lover-mine. She gets bitchier every time I talk to her. If she isn't an absolute bombshell in the sack you should dump her, Dickin. I kind of liked that red haired barmaid you had two chickies ago." Alex chuckled. "So what's going on?" 

Richard sighed. "Blackmail, I think." He explained. "She's threatening to out our affair to Command unless I behave." Sharpe wished he could crawl into the phone and immerse himself in his lover's seductive voice. "I don't know what to do about her anymore. I don't know if we can... " He sighed. "Shite Xander, baby." 

"It's okay." The Russian soothed. "I wanna see you, Zdorovo." 

The next words hurt as they tore out of his throat. "I can't." Richard said reluctantly. "She's right. We shouldn't be doing this. I'm a government agent, damn it. I can't just toss off my responsibilities and run away to Germany without warning especially considering what you are, Sweet thing. God, I want to. I want to so bad my hands are shaking, but it's wrong. We both know it. We've gotta stop, Precious." 

"I'm not in Germany, Dickin." His chuckle was smoky and warming. "Unlock your door. I'll be there in just a minute." Alexei purred out the information. 

"But Jane..." 

"She left. I watched the car leave." 

Richard hissed out a quick breath of air. "Where are you?" 

The Russian laughed again. "Down the street. You don't think I'd actually tell her royal bitchiness the truth, do you? Just give me a minute, Lover. I need so badly to touch you again, Dickin." 

"Don't!" Sharpe said quickly to halt the other hanging up. "No, Baby. We can't keep doing this. It's wrong." 

"Wrong?" Alex repeated the word as if he couldn't believe he'd heard it. "I can't, I won't accept that. Dickin." A long, thick sigh followed. "You told me you love me. Don't you even try to take it back, mon amoureaux d'or. I heard you say it. You weren't lying. I know you meant it. You love me." He insisted. "I need you. I've never needed anything as much as I need you, Dickin. Please." 

The declaration shivered up Richard's spine. "You scare me." Sharpe admitted in a pained hiss. "What you do to me, Xander. The way you affect me. It's not natural." He squeezed his eyes shut. "We can't keep doing this." Richard's chest pinched. His body was screaming for him to shut up and just accept the offers Alexander's gritty whispers were promising. "My job, your job. It's impossible. It makes no sense. Think of the consequences if we were exposed, not just for me but for you too." 

"Dickin." Alex cut in confidently. "Don't try to make sense of it. We don't need to understand what's between us. All that matters is how it feels when our bodies slide together. I'm going to hang up now and within the next few minutes I'll be tasting your skin. Shut off your brain and open the door for me, Love, or I swear to God I'll break it down 'cause if I don't taste you soon I'll go absolutely insane." 

The connection severed abruptly and Sharpe shuddered in reaction to the other's words and attitude. Why did he even think he could deny Alexander? He had an erection powerful enough to pull most of the blood away from his brain and that was just from hearing the younger man speak. 

The door wasn't locked. Jane seldom bothered unless she was home alone and she never locked it when leaving Richard by himself. The only question remaining was 'where did Sharpe want to be waiting when his on-again/off-again lover arrived?'. 

Throwing away any illusions of propriety, Richard started striping down. He left a trail of clothing to lead Alexander to the bedroom and set about switching on every light in the room, to augment the sunshine coming through the pink curtains that Jane had insisted on. Too many of his trysts with Xander took place in shadows and darkness. This time he wanted the sight of the younger man burned into his retinas so strongly that he would still be seeing Alex behind closed lids for the next month. 

When the Russian finally appeared in the bedroom doorway, it was a shock. Richard hadn't heard a sound indicating that Alex was in the house. On top of that surprise, the younger man's general appearance was a complete change from the last time they'd seen each other. Alexander looked like an American college student who'd somehow been lost by his middle-class tour group. He had the entire 'scrubbed clean, faintly rebellious but still polite' look down pat. Sharpe couldn't help but laugh. 

Alex brushed back a lock of dark brown hair that was just falling into his eyes. "You hate it." The young man accused with a faint pout in his voice. 

"What are you supposed to be?" Richard sat down on the edge of his bed. 

"Alex Krycek, a student of NYU." He supplied. "I'm going to school on a scholarship. Don't I look all cute and trainable? I'm in the top quarter of my class." 

"Really?" 

"Well, no. Not really." Alex offered up a thin smile. "I'm registered and all, but I'm having a bitch of a time making classes, what with my after school job at 'World domination incorporated' taking up so much of my time." 

"Xander. Don't." Sharpe's amusement faltered. 

"Whatever." Alex crossed the floor and leap as soon as he was near enough to land on the mattress. "Gee Major Sharpe this sure is a nice place you've got here. How long do we have until your wife comes home?" Wide green eyes blinked in a parody of innocence. 

"Don't." Richard repeated, shaking his head. "No games today, sweet thing, especially not that fresh from the country and pure as the spring rain shite. You've never been that naïve." 

"Oh bother." Alex continued to hold on to his false character. "But those nice government men back in the States seem so sure of me. I'm just the perfect little greenhorn for their plans." 

"I don't want to know." Richard moved up onto his knees, laying a hand over Alexander's soft lips to silence him. Sharpe's other hand smoothed up the Russian's forehead, dragging dark hair back and away. Richard stared into Alex's eyes until a smoulder replaced the amusement in those green depths. "Xander." Sharpe began. "Can I see the real you this time, Sweet thing? I'm not asking you to tell me your secrets, Baby. I just want to make love to the real, honest you today." 

"You just don't get it, do you mon soldat d'or?" Exploring fingers moved to smooth across Richard's chest. "There is no real me. I'm nothing but a reflecting surface. That's how I survive." Alex toyed with the pale nipples at his fingertips. "Just tell me what you'd like and I'll do it for you, Love." 

Richard frowned thoughtfully. "Get yer gear off and lay down with me, Xander." He requested. 

Alex smiled and began squirming out of his clothing, obviously pleased with the direction the conversation had turned. The younger man made a show out of peeling off his sweater and flicking open the buttons on the shirt underneath. True to his earlier resolve Richard watched every move, absorbing his lover's presence. 

Alexei's usually pale skin had a hint of colour about it, as if the young man had been seeing more daylight lately. The thought of his beautiful Alex laying on a beach somewhere was enough to make Richard's mouth water. 

"You've missed me." Alex stated as he slid down on the mattress beside his lover. "I know I've been aching for you, Gorgeous." He reached only to have his hand fended off. 

"No. Lay down, sweet thing." Sharpe moved to press at his lover's shoulder encouraging the younger man to sprawl out on the warm sheets. "I want to touch you, Xander." Richard trailed his fingertips down a silky shoulder blade. "There never seems to be enough time to do it up right." He bent down to lay a line of kisses along Alex's spine. "Key-rist, you're beautiful." Pressing the other man flat to the bed, Richard shifted to sit across the back of his lover's legs. His thumb coasted back and forth across one shoulder blade, feeling the faint ridges that were barely visible on Alexander's back and frowning when he realised there were more marks than he remembered. "Someone's been beating you again. Who did this to you, Sweet thing?" Sharpe asked quietly. 

"No questions, Dickin. You know I can't answer questions." Alex squirmed trying to roll over. 

Richard pressed his weight harder, holding his lover in place. "I'm sorry." He turned the exploration into a massage. "Lay still." Sharpe shifted. The cleft of Alexander's ass cradled Sharpe's leaking erection. "Relax for me." He stroked the Russian's arms until they went bonelessly limp then slid back over to Alex's ribs. "You're so bloody beautiful." 

Alex sighed, squirming into a more comfortable position. "Ya tebya tak lyublyu, moi soldat zolotoj." He murmured. "You're so good to me." 

Sharpe stretched out, wanting to feel his lover's whole body. "I love you too." Richard couldn't wrap his tongue around those damned Russian words but he'd heard variations of that phrase so many times he'd finally learned to recognise the declaration. 

Alex's breath caught and he twisted so he could face his lover. His green eyes were wide and darkened by emotion. "Say it again, Dickin. You're usually fucking me when you say it. Say it again now." 

Richard seized the younger man's jaw and closed the distance between them to steal a kiss. His brow furrowed and he pulled back almost immediately. "When did you start smoking?" 

"Self defence." Alex's shoulders shrugged vaguely. "It was getting blown in my face." 

"I don't much like it." 

"I'll quit." The Russian promised immediately, and then shoved his face into the crook of Sharpe's throat, nuzzling there. He wiggled, rubbing his body up and down against the other man in encouragement. "Whatda want, Gorgeous? What do you want me to do for you?" They rolled in the untidy sheets until Alexander ended up astride his lover. 

"Ride me, Xander." Richard requested in a throaty tone. "I want to watch you. I need to see every shiver and quake. I want to watch your face." 

Alex's smile started at one corner of his mouth then dragged up the other. "I can do that." He undulated, rocking in place, and ran his palms over Richard's chest. His hands stopped so that his thumbs could flick over Sharpe's nipples. "Lovely, lean Dickin." Alex leaned forward until his mouth brushed his lover's. "You want it hard and dry, or slick and smooth?" 

"Slick, sweet thing. Slow and easy." Richard whispered back before turning it into another kiss. An appreciative groan escaped his throat as Alex's fingers pinched. 

"You got any grease around here, Zdorovo?" The Russian asked when the prolonged kiss finally broke apart. 

"Shite!" Sharpe cursed softly. "I don't need it with Jane." 

A laugh hissed out of Alex. "It's the back alley way then, I suppose." The Russian wriggled down his lover's body, dragging his open mouth along the other's shivering skin. The movement was languid, drawn out into the slowest possible action. He murmured inaudible endearments along his lips' path. 

Richard sighed and threaded his fingers into Alex's glossy hair, encouraging the lingering contact. "There's my Xander." When a tongue flicked and twirled over Sharpe's flat stomach it made the soldier laugh. "Tickles." 

"Tasty." Alexander countered, nibbling. "Gonna eat you up." He burrowed lower, tracing his nose down into short blonde hair until the underside of his chin caught on Richard's bobbing erection. Alex rose up on his forearms and looked down at his target with a faint smile. "I missed you." The declaration was immediately followed by Alexander dropping down and swallowing his lover whole. 

Richard's breath caught and he froze at the sudden overwhelming sensation. Luckily Alex wasn't inflicting any pressure or Sharpe would have lost it. The Russian didn't even shut his lips tight against his lover's skin. The object of this part of the game was to slick as much moisture as possible onto Richard, so lots of tongue action and pressure on the back of Alexander's throat were offered up. Some pleased noise or another vibrated against the tip of Sharpe's cock and Alex's fingers tickled over to the small expanse of hip they were able to reach. 

"Bloody hell." Richard quaked and fought against the urge to dig his fingers into his lover's hair, and force Alex to turn this faint simulation of a blowjob into the real thing. Sharpe gritted his teeth and reminded himself that another, even more enjoyable, act awaited. 

When Alex lifted his face once more, his chin was glistening with moisture and his eyes were absolutely blazing with contained energy. "Ready, Zdorovo?" His voice was a teasing whisper. "You still want to do this?" 

"Do it, Sweet thing. C'mon Baby." Richard urged, his fingers flexing impatiently. "Don't tease. It's been too long." 

Gifting his lover with another lopsided smile, Alexander stretched out artistically, rising up to his knees. The younger man's every move was artfully preformed. One hand wrapped around Sharpe's erection to steady it while the other settled on the soldier's hip for balance. 

The inhuman heat of Alexander's body never failed to startle Richard. It was as if the other man constantly ran a low-grade fever. Feeling that molten warmth beginning to press down on him was enough to make Sharpe groan out loud. 

Keeping his spine straight and staring down at Richard's face, Alexander slowly lowered himself down onto his lover's cock. Sharpe's eyes squeezed tightly shut and his head tipped back, digging into the mattress. His mouth fell open and short gasps of air made his chest heave. Richard's hands reached and grabbed fitfully, pressing into the skin just below Alex's hips. 

"Look at me, Dickin." The younger man demanded as their bodies finally drew flush to one another. "Look at me, damn you." His body clenched briefly, startling a groan out of Richard. 

"I..." Sharpe's teeth were gritted tight, not allowing proper words. He sucked in two long breaths then opened his eyes once more. Alex looked positively feral at moments like this. "Yer so fucking beautiful." Richard kneaded at the bunching muscle under his hands. 

The compliment startled a laugh out of Alexander. "Darlin." He shifted, rising and falling slightly. "This is so right. This is where I want to be." Alex hissed out as he moved. "I love you, moi Dickin. I love you so much." A throaty moan cut off the declarations. 

Richard's fingers dug in, his nails cutting slightly, and his hips arched off the bed following his lover's rocking movements. The Russian's actions were leisurely, as he stretched out the connection for as long as physically possible. When orgasm threatened Alex paused to lean forward. He cupped the older man's head and locked his mouth onto Richard's. Sharpe let Alexander dominate the kiss, opening his own mouth to accept whatever his lover wanted. It seemed Alex never got enough of kissing. He would do it for hours if allowed, using his lips and tongue to explore not only Richard's mouth but every bit of the blonde's face, ears and throat, only letting up when Sharpe needed time to gasp in breaths of air. 

"Sit up." Richard whispered eventually, pushing the younger man. "Let me look at you, Xander." 

Alex obeyed and Sharpe was gifted with the sight of his lover straddling him and smiling. The light flattered Alexander, painting him a strange golden rose. 

"You're beautiful." Richard gazed up. His hand moved to stroke Alex's erection in a rather lazy fashion, pleased with the way his lover squirmed at the petting touch. "You get more beautiful every time I see you." 

The Russian chuckled at Richard's breathless tone then hooked his hips to remind both Sharpe and himself that they were still joined. Alex gasped and his legs tightened on either side of the prone man. "And you were thinking of refusing me, Darlin." He reminded. 

"I'm a bloody fool. Never listen to me if I say no, sweet thing." Sharpe instructed. 

"I never do." Alexander reminded the other, and then roused into movement once more. "I never will." An extended shudder wracked his frame. "You love me." 

Richard's breath hitched. His need flared again. 

"You love me." The grave statement and Alex's squirming body demanded a response. "Don't you?" 

"I adore you." 

Sharpe's answer didn't satisfy the Russian and he stilled his hips. Fingertips skated over Richard's skin, occasionally pinching. 

Sharpe knew what the other wanted and denied him a little longer to wallow in the burn of delayed satisfaction. Richard drowned his senses, staring up and enjoying the touch of the younger man. Alex knew just how to pull him to the edge and keep him teetering there until the feelings verged on near pain. 

Alex shuddered and rocked. "Say it, me Darlin. Fuck I need to hear it again and again. I'll never get enough of hearing you say it. When the time comes I want it to be the last thing I hear before I die. Your name is going to be on my lips when they finally take me down, Dickin, mon soldat d'or." 

Richard's breath caught. "I do love you." He declared, not willing to hear any more of Alex's strange musings. "I love you, Xander. Now, bloody move!" 

The body above him arched into action, obeying the desperate command. Alex's legs bunched and lifted. He had to put his arms behind him, bracing against Richard's legs to stay steady. This time Alex intended to take himself and his lover all the way. Sharpe obliged by wrapping his strong fingers around the younger man's cock and pumping. 

"Ya tebya lyublyu!" The declaration tore out off him as Richard squeezed down. Orgasm snapped and twisted Alex's spine. Sweat was dripping off his body onto the skin below him and his eyes were watering. 

Sharpe's fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises as he slammed his lover one last time. The blond's neck arched and he let out a strangled groan that could easily have been mistaken for a death rattle save for the panting breaths that followed. 

"Moi negodyaj." Alex practically collapsed atop his lover. "My only love." His fingers spasmed erratically against Sharpe's smooth chest and shoulder. "Dearest Richard." 

The last sentiment surprised him slightly but Sharpe let it pass. He chose to silently wrap his arms up and around the body laying on him, and bury his face in thick blackish-brown hair. 

* * *

"Spill some beer on the bed." Alex suggested as he lingered in the doorway. "Then tear the sheets off and leave them in a pile on the floor. Jane will cuss you out but she won't realise I was here." 

Richard aborted his intended kiss and tipped his head to stare across at the other man. "Why do I get the impression you know what you're talking about?" 

Heavy lashes dropped and Alex stared down at their feet. "I've had a lot of training." He admitted. "In this, that and the other thing." The Russian's tone was vaguely sad. "But it's all business, Dickin. You're the only one that matters." 

"I believe you. You would never lie about that." 

Alex's widened eyes turned a shocked expression on Sharpe. "I lie all the time." He countered. "You know that." 

"Not to me. Not about us. I trust you, Xander." As soon as the words were out Richard realised they were true. "When it comes to what's between you and I..." He floundered. "Could you get out, Sweet thing? If you tried, if we made a plan, could you get away from the job?" 

"Why should I? I've no where else to go, Zdorovo." 

Richard touched Alex's cheek. He waited until he had his lover's full attention before speaking. "Yes, you do." 

"Don't do this to me." The Russian hissed. "Not as I'm walking out the door. Don't ever joke with me like that." 

"I'm not joking." Sharpe stated calmly. "If you're willing to break free I'll help you any way I can and give you a place to run to." 

"What about Jane?" He was squirming, throwing anxious looks out towards the street. "Are you planning on sleeping between us so we don't fight?" Alex asked in a sarcastic tone. 

Richard frowned. "If you're serious, then Jane is history." 

The offer was met with a harsh snort of laughter. "No Dickin, me Darlin." Alex shook his head. "I wish I could but now isn't the time. You go ahead and play house with the busty little bitch. I'll make sure she doesn't clue in to us the next time I can see you." The spy stole one brief kiss, then backed away. "I've a plane to catch, Lover. I'll call you when I can. I love you." 

Richard watched his occasional lover back away. "Be careful, Xander. Watch your back." 

The warning earned him a flashingly brief smirk, and then Alexander turned away and strode off down the street. 

* * *

That's it. Milk and cookies time. 

_There's not room for very many of these Sharpe/Krycek snippets left in my 'Scoundrels' timeline. Just two, I think. I'll be penning a little smutty one to tidy up the Jane problem and then another, longer tale, with a real plot and very little sex about the end of the relationship._

Address: [email removed]   
Rating: NC-17 Slash—male/male sex, very little plot   
Date: June 2000   
Summary: An X-files/Sharpe crossover pairing Alex Krycek and a VERY 'alternate universe' version of Richard Sharpe. Sharpe's new girlfriend is interfering in the relationship but Alex persists.   
Erika E is responsible for beta reading, cheerleading and generally confusing/amusing the author. May showers of smarties and/or flower petals decorate her path. xxooxx   
Eeek! Songfic. I overdosed on one of my mixed M.E. tapes. Okay, it's England and the year is 1990. Sharpe is a Major of a British black-ops squad. Krycek is member of a Russian mafia family (of sorts). They're conducting an on again/off again affair that neither of their support organizations know about or would approve of but the attraction is too strong to refuse.   
This is the sixth story in my pwp series 'Sharpe's Scoundrel'.   
The previous tales are archived on my homepage at:   
<http://members.dencity.com/CarlaJane/homepage.html>   
Disclaimers: Of course Bernard Cornwell, Chris Carter, Fox, and the various actors, writers and production companies own Richard Sharpe, Jane Gibbons and Alex Krycek. I just can't resist mucking around with these boys and beating on Jane. I don't mean any offence.   
---


	7. A Token of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').

**Part VII  
A Token of Affection**

  
The drive back to his place was weighted by silence. Hiring a vehicle with a decent sound system would have increased the price, Sharpe thought. He hated the hissing noise the cheap radio in this car made, so he left it turned off. Still, tonight his life wasn't half bad. He had a full belly, thanks to his first officer and Harper's lovely wife. It seemed that lately, at least twice a week, Patrick and Ramona had Richard Sharpe over to their place for dinner. They had reasoned out that, between the depression hanging over the Major and his severe lack of funds, Richard certainly wasn't eating properly at home. 

Home. Now there was a joke and a half. He hadn't lived in a place as sparsely furnished as this since he was a teenager. The bed was now a mattress on the floor, but at least it was a good one and the single set of sheets he owned were brand new. No lingering memories of Jane tainted his sleeping spot. Sharpe had even abandoned the master bedroom in favour of what used to be his office, so the walls wouldn't remind him of that bitch. 

Richard had also managed to spring for a new kitchen table but he was still using the card table chairs Ramona had forced upon him. It was going to take some time, and few missions before he could afford to replace the bulk of what his wife had taken when she'd left him. 

His stomach lurched, as it always did, when he thought about coming home from Egypt to find his wife gone, their house stripped bare, his investment portfolio liquidated and all his bank accounts emptied. It amazed him that a woman he'd only been with for a year could so completely destroy his life. 

Jane had been complaining about his work since a month after the wedding. She whined that he was gone too long at a time and that he never called while he was in the field. Not that she minded the healthy income his efforts brought home, Richard thought cynically. 

He had sent a solicitor on the bitch and her boyfriend, to negotiate a divorce, but he didn't dare let his legal advisor get nasty with the little tart. Fuck, if she decided she didn't even want to grant him freedom there wasn't a lot Sharpe could do about it. Jane knew too many secrets for him to piss her off. The whore was likely going to keep everything she'd taken and get even more on top of that. That left Richard in a tight squeeze. He was having a hard time handling all the debts she'd piled up, and here he was with nothing but his most recent paycheques in the bank. And if that wasn't enough, Jane's brother and uncle were causing Sharpe and the Essex no end of grief at Command over the split. They believed every accusation of abuse that Jane had flung at Richard and were blocking his attempts to rebuild in all kinds of sly and roundabout ways. 

As he pulled into his driveway, Sharpe considered for the hundredth time giving up this damned house that Jane had insisted on buying. He'd do it in a minute if he thought he could scramble out from under the mortgage without losing his shirt in the deal. Rent would be a damn sight easier to handle and a smaller place wouldn't emphasis his lack of belongings quite so glaringly. 

Maybe he should look about getting a flat in a building with a security guard on the front door, Richard thought to himself as he climbed out of his rental car. This neighbourhood was no prize either. It appeared vagrants were now starting to hang around. Someone was sitting on the stoop at the side of his house, resting against the door. 

Richard casually shifted his keys to his left hand and considered how quickly he could have his gun out and aimed at the intruder. He was just starting to reach for it when the huddled figure stood up, to reveal Sharpe's, much missed, on again/off again lover, Alexander. Christ it was good to see the younger man. This last separation had stretched out over three months. "Xander, baby." Richard stopped in place to stare at the other. "You look like hell." 

The young spy was unshaven, clothed in well-worn, ripped blue denim, stained grey cotton and he wore a shoddy-looking pair of work boots. 

"I'm jet lagged beyond human endurance." Alex's voice was low and husky. "Too many jobs, too little time. I had to take care of something in Yorkshire earlier today. I've a night to spare before I'm expected to catch a flight to New York. Do you mind, Dickin?" 

Richard's heart rate tripled and he wanted little more than to shove his lover against the door and ravage that sweet mouth, but he couldn't let the small disclosure slip by. "What were you doing in Yorkshire, Xander?" The co-incidence of Alexander visiting the area that Jane and her precious John 'fucking' Rosendale had holed up in was unbelievable. 

"I never know what to buy you, Dickin, me Darlin." The younger man stretched, catlike. "And I've missed your birthday so many times." 

"Bloody Hell!" Sharpe threw a nervous glance up and down the street then rushed forward to get the door open. "Why wait out here on the stoop? You've broken in before. Someone could see you." His key stubbornly refused to work on the first try. "What the crud have you done, Xander?" 

"You've been at Harper's place all day in full view." Alex shrugged. "It's not gonna come bite you on the ass. It was clean." 

The door finally shoved inward. Richard grabbed the Russian by the arm and dragged him into the darkness of the mostly empty house. "What did you do?" He demanded again. 

"I did you a favour and amused myself at the same time. Where's the damage, Dickin?" Alex smirked and plastered himself to the front of his lover, tipping his mouth as if waiting for a kiss. When he didn't receive it as he expected Alex took a step backwards. "What?" 

"Exactly. Tell me exactly what you've done," Sharpe demanded. 

"I never do anything." The beginning of a pout accompanied the statement. "Someone, who isn't me, might have broken into Rosendale manor, stolen the jewellery of the master's whore, and killed lovely Jane and her pet, John." 

"Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch! You stupid bugger! What were you thinking?" Richard ranted. "And then you come here? BLOODY HELL!" 

"All the evidence has vanished. That 'someone' knows what he's doing," the Russian explained in a coaxing tone, completely baffled that his token of affection wasn't pleasing his lover. "Do you like my new clothes? I got them from a thrift shop downtown before I came here. Every bit of my gear disappeared somewhere." A flash of teeth appeared briefly in the gloom. "I did it for you, Dickin. I know money is tight for you right now but I'm sure your property will be reverting back to you soon now that your lawyer doesn't have to pull his punches." 

"You killed my wife, Alexander. Now you stand there and expect me to pleased." Sharpe's head shook in amazement. "You killed two people. I'm a fucking Agent of the law. What do you expect of me?" 

What occurred next chilled Richard right down to his bones. Alex's back straightened, his shoulders pulled back and his chin lifted. The Russian's eyes went as hard as ice and his lashes dropped slightly, shielding them. His lips narrowed out as they pushed into a frown and his eyebrows lowered, a crease forming between them. Never in all the years that he and Alex had been conducting their intermittent affair had the younger man ever turned that kind of expression of frosty distain towards Richard. The last time Sharpe had seen Alex looking like this they had been partners on the job and someone was about to die. 

"Who the fuck do you think you're dealing with, Sharpe?" Alex demanded in a whisper of stunned disbelief. "You aren't stupid. You must know I don't go off and play bingo with little old ladies when I'm not with you. I can't even tell you the number of the people I've killed because I'd already stopped counting before I even met you. I demolish corporations and kick at the underpinnings of governments on a regular basis," stated Alex in a flat tone. "If Nicola gave me the order I'd break into fucking Buckingham palace and set a bomb that would destroy most of the surrounding cities without questioning her. DO NOT think that what you and I do when were together changes anything about my basic nature." 

Richard stared at his lover, his mouth not quite closing. "I know in my head what you are," Sharpe began haltingly. "But you've never brought it home with you. Not like this, Xander." 

"Home?" Alex sucked in a breath so abrupt that it sounded as if someone had punched him in the diaphragm. "This isn't my home. This is your home. Your's and your woman's. The only HOME I ever had in my whole pathetic life was the fucking cheap flat we shared. The one you walked out of to marry that bitch, Teresa." He screamed the last few words. His hands flexed as if he were going to reach for a weapon. "Killing your bloody wife was one of the most satisfying things I've ever done and if you can't deal with it get the fuck out of my way and I guarantee you that you'll never have to see me again." 

Sharpe flinched, eyes wide. His hand shot out and seized hold of Alex's arm in a death grip. "You're talking about Jane, right?" he demanded. When the other didn't answer immediately Richard grabbed his other arm and shook him as if he were an errant child. "Are you talking about Jane?" 

Alex's muscles bunched slightly as if he was about to break free but he didn't fight against the action, instead he simply took the abuse. "Yes." The word hissed out. His teeth were clenched to keep them from rattling together. "Jane." 

"Where were you when Teresa died?" A quaver of dread threaded through Richard's question. "Did you kill Teresa? Tell me the truth." Sharpe jerked him in place again even harder. 

"I was in Germany." The Russian looked straight into his lover's pale eyes. "I didn't kill your first wife. I never lie to you, Dickin. We made a deal. I don't lie to you." 

Richard's fingers were digging in, no doubt leaving bruises. He drew Alex toward him, squeezing harder. "But you used to. You used to lie to me all the time." Teeth bared. Their eyes locked. Sharpe now suspected, in the back of his head, that his lover had committed the crime but maybe if he could hear the Russian deny the murder enough times Richard could convince himself to accept that statement. The only alternatives were either arresting Alex or sending him away forever. Sharpe couldn't bear to contemplate either of those scenarios. The older man twisted slightly in place so he could thump Alex's back against the frame of an archway. 

The Russian's head bounced off the hard wood and a tiny squeak of protest finally escaped Alexander's lips. 

"You jealous bitch! You hated her." 

Green eyes widened alarmingly at Richard's choice of insults, and a wracking tremor ran through him, but he still didn't try to break away from the torment his lover was inflicting on his skin. "I didn't kill Teresa." Alex repeated over and over with a straight face. "I didn't kill her." He shivered as the rattling shake from Richard came again three times as hard. The tension was quickly dissolving from Alexander's frame as the glare and the harsh treatment extended. "I didn't, I swear." He'd grown limp under the abuse. "I love you, Dickin." 

Richard snarled and dragged his lover into a kiss while continuing the punishing squeeze of his hands on Alex's arms. He forced the other's mouth open with his tongue and mashed their open lips together, teeth clacking. His hands shifted. One of them slide up to dig into the tender flesh below Alex's jaw while his other arm wrapped around Alex's body holding it as close as possible. 

The younger man whimpered and ground into his lover. Supported by the wall he could afford to lift one leg and hook it around Richard, pulling him in tighter. An occasional word slipped out between their savage kisses but they made very little sense. 

Sharpe pulled back just far enough to allow them both to gasp down some air and to hear what the other was saying. "What?" 

Alex's requests were said in breathless gasps. "Hurt me. Fuck me. Do me now." He squirmed, grinding himself up and down against Richard's front. "I've been such a bad boy. Punish me, Dickin." He coaxed. "I missed you so much. Anything you want, Lover. Come on Baby, strap me." 

He couldn't stop panting. "Bloody hell." It took every bit of willpower Sharpe possessed to draw back from the shameless invitation, but Richard released his lover and stepped away. "Don't." The warning was gritted out. "I won't accept your whore mask. I won't settle for your body anymore. I'm bloody tired of that game. Settle down, Xander." 

"But you started it!" Alex snarled out. "Put out, damn you." He shivered and his gaze flashed about the darkened interior. "Hurt me, you son of a bitch. Give me what I need or I'll go find someone who can." 

Richard held his silence for a little longer, judging the other. "There isn't anyone else," he decided. "Or you wouldn't keep risking so much to come back here. What would your boss do if she found out about this, Xander, about us?" Sharpe leaned in and stole a brushing kiss, refusing to go further even when Alex's mouth opened in invitation. "What would Nicola Romanov do if she found out how badly you had it for a British agent?" 

Alex groaned and tried to pull his lover closer. "Don't." 

"Tell me." 

"She'd do all things I want you to do to me, but without letting me enjoy it. Happy? I don't want to talk about work. Please." 

"Com'ere." Sharpe drew the other man along into the kitchen since it was the closest. "It's time, Sweet thing." Tugging at Alexander's clothes assured that he had the Russian's full attention. "Now is the perfect time. Jane's gone." That statement felt uncomfortable but he pushed it out. "We're not kids anymore, Xander." 

"Speak for yourself, Dickin." Alex squirmed willingly out of his shirt. 

"Four bloody years difference. It may have mattered when we met, Xander, but it's nothing anymore," Sharpe corrected him. "The point... " He reached down to pop the button on his lover's jeans. "... is. You're not twenty-two any more. It's time for you to come in from the cold, while you're still young enough to start over." 

"Don't wanna talk." Alex shoved out of his pants, and then plastered himself to Richard's front. "Later, mon soldat d'or. Fuck now, talk later." 

"You... " The words gasped out between tastes of Alex's salty skin. "... never... want... to... " Sharpe stepped them backwards, then lifted his lover up and sat him on the edge of the table. He buried his face in the curve of Alex's throat and feasted. "So beautiful." 

Alex groaned when teeth accidentally scraped at his jugular and his hips thrust in eagerness but Richard refused to get rough. He pulled mindlessly at Sharpe's clothes, careless of fastenings or tearing the material. "Skin." The demand was guttural. "Gimmie skin," pleaded Alexander. 

Richard cursed, pulling away far and just long enough to yank his own clothes off and toss them aside. Alex lay back on the table, kicked away his shoes and the tattered jeans that were tangled around his ankles, then stretched provocatively. "How strong is this table, Dickin?" 

The response was a growl. Sharpe grabbed Alex by the hips and tugged him until he was at the edge of the sturdy oak once more. Richard knelt down, opened his mouth and swallowed his lover's cock. 

Alexander wailed and his legs wrapped up and over Sharpe's shoulders. He made an aborted attempt to grab at his lover, and then gave up in favour of fisting his hands and slamming them down hard above his own head. "Da, moi lyubov." 

Richard swallowed hard, attempting to force his lover into a state of high arousal in the least amount of time. When he pulled off to catch his breath momentarily, Sharpe filled in the pause with a kiss on the inside of Alex's leg. His fingers gripped the other man's pale skin and lifted Alex further off the edge of the table, forcing the spy to rely on him even more for support. 

The strain on his body only made Xander look more beautiful to Richard, delineating Alex's muscle tone and causing a sweat to break out. Sharpe pulled in a lungful of air and dropped his mouth once more earning another, louder cry of passion. Baring his teeth slightly to sensitive skin rated more noise, as did sliding one thumb into the crack of Alexander's ass. 

"Take the edge off, Dickin." Alex's heels dug in. "Please." 

Richard ignored him, pulling off with a sloppy lick and shifting his mouth down to the other's balls. Sharpe coaxed them into dropping back down with his lips and tongue then lowered Alex a little. 

Freed from supporting his lover, one of Richard's hands skimmed across Alex's hip and onto his stomach, drifting across slick skin. "What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want me to do to you." 

Alex's head lolled. "Let me come quick, Dickin. I make it up to you right after. Please, me darling. Take the edge off then you can see if this damned table with hold us both up." One hand found enough direction to lift and grab a handful of pale blond hair. 

Resisting the tug, Sharpe began rolling one of Alex's nipples between his thumb and finger. "No. You'll have to wait for me," stated Richard, denying Alex his request. "I want you desperate when I slid in." 

"I'm desperate now!" Legs tightened. 

Richard bent over to drag his mouth from his lover's chin to just above his cock and then back up again. "Not desperate enough," he whispered before repeating the act. The temptation was there to pinch or bite but Sharpe resisted it. Instead he showered Alex with open mouth kisses on his skin and reverent caresses. Each time it looked as if Alexander might lose it, Richard drew back enough so that no contact was being made with Alex's leaking erection. Sharpe treated his lover as if he were a feast laid on the table. 

"Liubovnik, pazhaluysta." The Russian writhed under the attention. "I need more." His hips pumped, in search of more direct contact. When that didn't work Alex's heels scrambled for purchase on the table edge and he tipped his body up, offering himself to Sharpe. "Dickin, please. Byastro." 

"Shh, Xander. It's all right." One arm stretched up so Richard could stroke Alex's face. "Not yet." 

"You're trying to kill me!" Alex accused his lover. "This is just another way to punish me." His fist slammed down on wood. "You hate me." 

"I love you," Sharpe shot back. "More than you know." A finger slid into the other's tight body, causing an eager convulsion. "It's time, Sweet thing." There was a powerful resolve punctuating those few words, conveying their import. "It's time for you to come home." 

Alexei opened his mouth to protest but Richard's finger crooked and he lost the complaint in a flush of sensation. It crackled under his skin and made him cry out mindlessly. "Aaah! Dickin." 

The finger pulled out and Alex protested loudly. 

"Nearly there, Xander," Richard soothed. Unable to wait and assured that his lover had come to him prepared, Sharpe lifted Alex's legs out of way and lined his erection up to the opening. "I know what you want." The pressure he used was steadily unrelenting. "But you don't know what I need, Xander." He wrapped his hand around his lover's cock, stroking it. "Will you give it to me?" 

"Anything you want." Alex promised carelessly as he had so many times in the past. His body arched, attempting to rush the penetration but Richard wouldn't allow it. "Anything! Just do it." 

"I want you to leave Nicola Romanov." Sharpe's voice was as determined as his actions. "I want you to take a deal and tell everything you know to Command." He shoved briefly to emphasis the demand. 

Alex seemed to be listening. Those demon-lit green eyes of his had widened even more than being fucked would justify and his head was shaking his denial. "I can't." 

"You can, Xander." Sharpe eased the last couple of inches in. "We can have this. We can have this every night, Baby, but only if you'd just come clean." His breath was laboured as he tried to keep control. "Come on, Sweet thing." Richard increased the bribe exorbitantly. "No more women, I swear, Xander. If you do this I'll never take another lover again. I'll change however I have to. If it means quitting the service, I'll do it." Richard reassured him. 

"Ebat'-kopat'." His right arm moved to hide his face, covering his eyes completely. "Not now. Don't do this to me. Why can't you just fuck me?" Another breathless groan escaped Alex as Richard withdrew and shoved back in. The noise turned into a wail of disappointment when no further movement followed. "Dickin, please." 

"Turn Crown's evidence." Sharpe leaned over to shove the concealing arm away. As he suspected, tears were beginning to form in the corners of Alexander's tightly closed eyes. "You can't keep doing what you do, Xander. I can't keep ignoring it. Promise me you'll quit." 

"BASTARD! Move." Alex's heels attempted to force Richard into movement. 

Richard stroked the man under him, trying to keep his attention without giving Alexander enough to satisfy him even briefly. "Command will give you immunity. They'll help you to disappear once you testify. I'll go with you. The Orient. Australia. Canada. You and me. Please, Xander. I can't keep on like this." Sharpe couldn't resist, he had to feel another squeezing pull and push. "You said anything, Sweet thing. I want everything." 

"You're proposing." Alex let out a harsh bark of something between laughter and pain. "You haven't even buried your second wife and you wanna make me your third. Fucking bastard." He bore down, making Richard moan in turn. 

"If that's what it takes." Nails dragged down Alex's chest and stomach, and then they circled his bobbing cock. "Promise me." 

"Fuck me!" A screamed demand was Alexander's response. 

Richard gave himself leave to move but kept his strokes maddenly slow. "Promise me." 

A flood of curses snarled out of Alexander. At least six different languages were in the mixture. 

"PROMISE!" Sharpe circled his thumb over the slick tip of his lover's cock. 

"Dickin, please. I can't." 

"No." Richard gritted his teeth and withdrew all the way. He leaned over Alex and whispered right against his plush lips. "You'll have to go. I'll miss you, Xander, by all that's holy... I'll miss you more than is sane, but if you won't promise me this... don't come back this time. Ever." 

"No, Richard, please don't." 

Alex's grab was fended off. "Not unless you promise. Not unless you're willing to stay forever." Sharpe backed up out of reach. 

"You don't understand. I can't." 

"You haven't even tried. Can't you even bloody try? That's what I want. You keep swearing to give me anything. This is it, Xander. Put up or get out," Sharpe shouted. "I can't keep doing this. Please Baby. I love you." 

Alexander sat up, pulling knees up to his chest and shivering in distress. "Why couldn't you have asked at the start? I could have done it back when we met. I was going to." 

Xander's compliant hit it's mark. Richard was well aware how painfully true it was. The fight that had erupted the afternoon things had come to a screeching halt was forever burnt into his memory. More than once Sharpe had cursed himself for being so foolish back then. He hadn't properly valued what he had in front of him. This was his second chance and Richard wasn't about to let it slip away as well. "I'm asking now." Sharpe reached over to run his fingers through sweaty dark hair. "Just promise you'll try. I'll set it all up. The only thing you'll have to do is come in when I say it's a go." 

"I do love you, Dickin. You know I do. I've never loved anyone more." 

"Prove it to me, Sweet thing. Come and stay with me." 

"If that's the only way." Alex's nod was the tiniest of movements. "She's going to kill me, but if I have to die for you... if that's what it takes, I'll do it." 

Sharpe hissed out a sigh. "You're not going to die. You and I can handle anything she throws at us." He reached over to catch Alex's hand. "Come to the bedroom, Xander. It's not much, but it's more than this." Richard hauled him upright and into an embrace. 

The trip to the room Sharpe had claimed as his new bedroom took what felt like hours. They couldn't stop kissing or fondling each other. Three times they ended up against a wall, necking like teenagers and groping each other. Alex clung his lover, dragging his mouth off of Richard's only to breath then diving in for another soul deep kiss. 

They almost fell over the mattress on the floor, not realising they'd reached it until their feet found it. Sharpe had to pry the Russian loose, pushing him away in order to convince Alex to land on the cushioned surface. 

"Don't make me keep waiting, Dickin," Alex pleaded, dragging the other man down onto the makeshift bed with him. His hands were shaking. "I can't take any more. It's been too long." 

"No more teasing." Sharpe dropped down beside Alex in the tangle of sheets. "Which way do you want it? You want to do me instead? You choose." 

Without hesitation Alex squirmed into a comfortable position, spread his legs as far apart as possible, and planted his feet on the mattress. "Fuck me, moi negodyaj. I adore getting fucked. I told you that, right at the start. I love being under you. Do me." 

Sharpe grabbed a leg and lifted it. In only a few swift movements he was once more deep inside Alexander. There was nothing on earth like the feeling of being sheathed in his Xander. There wasn't another man who could fire Richard's blood like this and women had become nothing but lesser substitutes over the last few years. 

Sharpe shoved hard, pushing Alex across the unanchored mattress with the force of his thrusts. Alex growled and his fingers dug into his lover. 

"Harder!" Alexander's voice sounded as if he were being strangled. "God damned, motherfucking bastard! Make me feel it." 

A huff of air was the only verbal response Richard could muster. He put every bit of his energy into slamming their bodies together as hard and as far as possible. Alex's head reached the edge of the mattress and fell back with a hollow thump, but the younger man's grip didn't loosen so Sharpe kept up the almost brutal pace his Xander was demanding. 

Alex's mouth opened but little sound escaped, just harsh panting breaths. One of his hands released Richard's shoulder and moved to pull at his own straining erection. His face turned away, something that rarely happened when the made love, and a thin steam of tears leaked from tightly closed eyes. Alex's lips moved, but the words were mostly inaudible. The only one Sharpe caught was 'die'. 

"We're. Not. Going. To. Die." Richard managed to speak between ragged gasps and violent thrusts. "Gonna. Live. Together. Bloody hell." He was having trouble holding back. His orgasm was building like a storm. "Now, Baby." 

Alexander's shoulders slid off, hitting the floor. He screamed and his hand flew. 

Sharpe's thoughts splintered. His head threw back and his heart raced. Unconsciousness threatened but he fought it with every bit of strength he had left, wanting to ride the pleasure out to the end. His body, however, collapsed within seconds of the end of his orgasm. Richard slumped down half on top and half beside his lover. 

The pale chest under Sharpe's hand was shaking. 

"It's going to work, Sweet thing," Richard promised. "I've tested at this already. Command wants you. They'll give you a deal." He kissed Xander's cheek, and then brushed his parted lips back to Alex's ear. "I can have the deal in place within a month." 

"If Nicki finds out..." 

"She won't." Sharpe cut him off. "It's going to be all right, Lover. You'll see. I love you, Xander. You'll see. Come on. Come back up onto the bed." Their bodies had to separate to move but he wrapped his arms around Alexander, holding him tight. 

No argument came but it was a long time before the Russian's shivers and tears were ended by exhaustion and sleep. Richard stayed awake a long time wondering if he'd just lied to the most important person in his life. 

* * *

_That's all until Switzerland_

Milk and cookies time 

Address: [email removed]   
Rating: NC-17 Slash—male/male sex, very little plot   
Date: September 2000   
Summary: An X-files/Sharpe crossover pairing Alex Krycek and a VERY 'alternate universe' version of Richard Sharpe. Sharpe's latest wife was a problem. Alex solves problems. There's not much of plot here but the argument is loud and the sex is hot.   
This is the seventh story in my pwp series 'Sharpe's Scoundrel'. The previous tales are archived on my homepage at:   
[broken link removed] and on the Red and the Black This one is actually more of a prequel to what's coming but it might stand-alone, and hey, the sex is there.   
It is now late in 1990. Sharpe is a Major of a British black-ops squad. Krycek is member of a Russian mafia family (of sorts). They're conducting an on again/off again affair that neither of their support organizations know about or would approve of but the attraction is too strong to refuse.   
Disclaimers: Of course Bernard Cornwell, Chris Carter, Fox, and the various actors, writers and production companies own these toys. Sigh. Beta-reading and essential polishing was done by my best beloved, Erika, the cyber sorceress and monster child.   
---


	8. Conflict of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's England. It's 1988. The X-file's Alex Krycek, using yet another one of his aliases, is enrolled in a British black-ops training course. He's competing with an alternate universe version of Richard Sharpe (from the book and British TV series 'Sharpe').

**Part VIII  
Conflict of Interest**

  
**Switzerland,  
Early 1992**

Alexei couldn't stand still. His foster sister noticed his jumpy nerves but other than an occasional frown in his direction she was effectively ignoring the problem. No doubt she was blaming his hyperactivity on the importance of this evening's meeting, the strangeness of working with her instead of alone, and his recent booster shots. There was no way Olga could know that he had plans for tomorrow that were more important than anything he had ever done. 

If everything went smoothly with tonight's deal Olga would be on her way back to Russia first thing in the morning. Alex, on the other hand, had other plans. He was about to trust his lover beyond all reason and throw himself to the dubious mercy of the British government. Alexei was to meet Richard at a café in Paris and together they were going to hop a small plane over to England, where Special Operations would spend the next year taking statements from the Russian mafia prince who had once infiltrated their organization. 

He was an idiot, Alexei told himself for what seemed like the thousandth time. The British were playing him for a fool. Nothing he could offer up was worth ignoring his many crimes. Alex left Olga to pour, silently, over the blueprints she had spread out on the hotel room table and walked over to the window. 

Richard swore that the deal was in place. He said he had gone over the papers every which way. Alex paused at the lace curtains, tracing his fingertips down one. Richard Sharpe was a honourable man and Alexei loved him to the point of insanity but Sharpe was a soldier, not a lawyer. So many things could go wrong and if Alex went so far as to defect, his entire life would turn to ashes. He could never return to the place he had been calling home since he was thirteen years old or see the few members of his family he honestly loved. Even resting comfortably would never again be an option because Alex would be expecting each day bring forth the assassin that his foster-mother was surely going to set on him. 

This deal was a death sentence. Alexei would be entering into a life of continual threat. All the English government could offer was immunity... but it was the factor that wasn't in writing was the thing that would seal the deal. Richard Sharpe. For the chance to lay down with his beloved Dickin, every night for the rest of his possibly short life, Alexei was willing to walk into hell and offer up his wrists to be chained. 

Alex stared at the lace pinched between his fingers and attempted to reach a calm within the inner storm he now felt. He thought back to the conversation he briefly had with his lover three days ago. They had quickly confirmed the meeting was still a go, and then Richard had proceeded to whisper obscenities that were still echoing in Alexei's ears even now. Fuck, he was burning up. He wanted sex. He needed Dickin. He needed to drown these crushing fears in mindless rutting. 

Closing his eyes against the scene outside the window, Alexei built a completely different one inside his head. He dug back into his memory, selecting a long ago encounter from the time when he and Sharpe were living together. Dickin had described yet another of his fantasies to his lover and Alex had been more than willing to play along. Indulging Sharpe's whims had become Alexei's mission in life by that time. 

* * *

Alex had waited, leaning just outside the mouth of an alleyway in one of the worst parts of the city. His leather jacket was scuffed and his dark hair was greasy and falling in his eyes. While he'd waited for Dickin, Alexei had been forced to pull a gun and chase off a couple of punks. 

Richard had arrived looking almost as disreputable as his lover. They hadn't exchanged a word, merely locked eyes. Within seconds Sharpe had shoved Alex deep into the shadows of the stinking alley and behind a dumpster. Alexei's back had slammed into the bricks of the building. Richard dropped to his knees and tore open the front of his lover's jeans without speaking. 

Alex had to shove his fist into his mouth to contain the declarations that wanted to spill out. He had promised silence when they had arranged this tryst and, damn it, Alex was going to give Dickin exactly what he wanted. Richard's mouth burnt him, swallowing him. Alex made a conscious effort to reach down, tangle his free fingers into the spun gold of Sharpe's hair, and roughly guide the blowjob, as he'd been instructed to. 

They didn't dare linger too long. Getting caught during this game would damage their careers and this was only the first half of the fantasy. Shoulders braced hard against the graffiti covered wall. Alex's body bowed out, desperate for the completion that was barrelling down on him. 

With fingernails digging in and biting down on his fist, Alex shot his load into his lover's demanding mouth. He'd barely finished spurting when Sharpe popped up. Alex was whirled around, his face shoved into the bricks. His jeans were dragged down. 

The sound of Sharpe opening his zipper could barely be heard over their panting breaths. Richard spat heavily into his hand, slicked his erection briefly and immediately began pushing into his lover's body. Maybe in his teenage years Sharpe would had settled for another blowjob in return but, illusion be damned, he adored fucking his Xander. 

Alex's moan of pleasure couldn't be contained the first time Richard's cock scraped across his prostate. Alex tried to keep it quiet but he couldn't completely stifle the noise. 

"It's okay," Sharpe allowed in a bare whisper. "I know. You're such a slut for me, Xander. Go ahead. I like your ' bitch in heat' noises." A hard thrust demanded a grunt. "They turn me on." 

Noises, not words. It would have to suffice. Alexei's control slipped just a little. 

* * *

{Good God, Lexi.} Olga's nasal tones broke into her foster brother's thoughts, smashing the illusion he'd been building for himself. {You've been intolerable since I got here,} she complained. {Etienne was whining that you almost dislocated his hips last night. What the hell is the matter with you?} Olga slammed the file she was looking at down onto the table. {Are you still that wired from your pheromone shot? Do you need to go home? Maybe YOU should courier the package to Nicola instead of me. I could go to Turkey. I've things to do there.} 

"Nyet." Alex forced his frame to loosen up, shaking himself back into the here and now with monumental effort. {I'm expected back in the States next week. I don't have time for a visit home. I've been accepted at Quantico,} he reminded her. {If I don't report in for training my Consortium contacts will be furious. They've pulled all kinds of strings to get me into the Bureau.} 

Alexei padded across the room and casually flipped through Olga's papers. {I'm just tense. Maybe if you told me more about the package we're picking up.... You know I hate getting only half the mission statement.} His lower lip protruded slightly. {It makes me feel like you and Nicki don't trust me.} 

Her smile drifted into indulgence. {It's not a matter of trust, Lexi darling. It's a matter of protecting you. You don't need to know what we're buying in order to do your job, so why make you into a target for our enemies?} 

It sounded convincing enough despite the fact that it was a blatant lie and both of them knew it. 

{Here.} Olga shoved over a blueprint. {Memorize that, my love. Your job is to see I get in and out in one piece. I may have to leave you behind as a rear-guard. You can check in with Nicola in the morning if we get separated} 

Alexei's hand shook until he pressed it flat to the tabletop. 

"Spakoynee Lexi." Olga snatched at his wrist. {Look me in the eyes, Boy,} she demanded. Olga stared at him clinically for several long moments; noting his racing heart rate, dilated eyes and shallow breathing. {Something has your adrenaline pumping. You're sweating out pheromones so powerful that dogs are going to start yowling outside our door.} Her assessment was tinged with annoyance. {This is too much. Your shot was weeks ago. What the hell is going on?} 

{Nerves,} Alexei admitted honestly. {I've been hopping since before Christmas. Shit keeps happening.} It was as if the entire world was conspiring to prevent Alexei's defection from The Family. Three times he and Dickin had arranged for the event to happen. Twice Alexei's Family had throw emergencies at him and once Sharpe's Commander had insisted on a postponement. 

Olga glanced at her watch. {I don't want you wandering off to tomcat.} She frowned. {I'll give you two hours, and then I want your concentration back on these blueprints.} Olga pushed a button on her watch to set the alarm function and then laid it down on the pile of papers. {You may undress me.} Her arms lifted and she began listing the rules. {There will be no biting or scratching. Don't leave any marks on my skin. You had better go down on me first, Lexi. I took the blockers for your pheromones yesterday and you're not doing anything for me at the moment. But don't you dare expect I'm going to do that to you. God knows where you've been sticking that thing lately.} Her instructions were calmly outlined. {Keep away from my ass. I don't like it. If you don't behave how I want you to, then you can go jerk off in the bathroom. Got it?} 

"Da, Olga. Bolshoe spasibo." Alexei was bouncing on the balls of his feet with delight. Olga's body was a reward he seldom tasted, which was by design, of course. The rarity of her favours made them all the more desirable. {Thank you. It's more than I ever expected.} He sidled up beside his foster sister and reached for the woman's suit jacket with trembling fingers. 

* * *

Richard had attempted to pass the assignment off to someone else, but the short notice of the job and the fact that he and the Essex were already conveniently located near the area, made them the most likely choice. 

Sharpe glanced down at the building that they were staking out and then fingered the heavy cell phone clipped to his belt. Perhaps he should call the café and leave word for Alexander that their meeting was cancelled, but the idea of yet another postponement was painful. Maybe with a bit of luck this mission would be cleaned up by morning. Intel did say the thing would go down this evening. 

Sharpe acknowledged Harper with a look. "What are we up against?" 

"More blessed doors than men. It's like a bloody rabbit warren," came the complaint. "Hagman has found 'isself a perch where he can eyeball two of the more likely entrances but there's doors all around." 

"We're going to have to go inside." Richard shook his pale head. "It'd take three teams to cover this damned place properly," he decided. "We'll leave Hagman and Harris out here. Hagman can hold his perch. Harris can sweep a steady circle. Me, you, Cooper and Perkins will do a room to room. We need to be wired together so we'll be able to move when someone hits on a target." Richard walked over to the bag on the floor and unzipped it. "The odds of this lot bothering with monitoring radio signals are low enough. I think we should risk it." 

"What are these blokes trading off, Major?" Harper accepted a few radios. "Switzerland is a bit out of our jurisdiction." 

The observation made Richard smile. As if they were ever within their own jurisdiction. "That's why we have to do this quietly." He avoided the question. No one on the team was allowed to know how monumentally important this assignment actually was. "We intercept the package, and the money too, if we can, but that's secondary. We leave no witnesses. This was a third party attack. We were never here." 

"Pity I can't collect flyer miles for all the places we've never visited. Ramona's got a fancy for a trip to Rome. I think she's wanting to take the Pope a batch of those raisin biscuits of hers." 

"Screw the Pope, Pat." Richard headed for the door to their temporary headquarters. "If Ramona's in the mood to be giving away biscuits, tell her that my cupboard's pretty bare." 

* * *

Olga stopped the car in the shadows far from the few lighted windows in the area. {I'll be back in two hours. If you're not here waiting to tell me it's safe, I'll head for the airport,} she reminded him. {Check this place out well, little brother. Nicki dearest wants this deal to work.} 

Alexei popped the door, sliding out of the car and into the gathering gloom. The street was already deserted. No one should be kicking around these warehouses at this time of night. 

It was a simple trade, one briefcase for another. They'd dealt with Esterhaus before. A thin bond of trust was there, well, as much as could be expected considering both the organizations involved. 

Alexei was only a few hours away from freedom. He could make it to Paris with time to spare as long as this deal went smoothly. At this time tomorrow he'd be tangled up in Dickin's arms, dreaming the quiet sleep of the well fucked. 

Concentrate, Alexei reminded himself, as he slipped through a crevice between buildings. It was difficult. He was attempting to act as if the encounter with Olga had settled his nerves but despite how much he had gloried in the sex with the eldest of his foster sisters, she hadn't even finished washing up before Alexei found himself hyped back up again. 

First he needed to run through the sniper perches. Then he needed to see how accessible the ways in and out of the warehouse and offices were. Alex was also packing a few small radio-controlled bombs that he would set in place, just in case they needed a distraction. 

* * *

"I set up a few microphones," Perkins whispered to their Major. "I don't know if we'll be lucky enough to pick up any negotiations but it'll help us to pinpoint where everyone is." 

The junior member of the Essex was proving to be quite the whiz with electronics. Sharpe thanked his lucky stars that he had managed to snag Perkins from the last draft. The Essex had never dwindled down to such a small size as this before. 

The kid fiddled with the tuner he was carrying, flipping some dials up and down. "I've got activity." He peered at the read-out to discover which mic had gotten lucky. "Near the stairs to those upper offices... in the southeast corner. That's not one of us." 

Sharpe flicked a finger and Cooper ghosted off in that direction. 

"It's faint." Perkins winced. "That sounded like tape being ripped off a spool." He did a quick flip up and down the channels. "It's the only sound." 

"Intel had the meeting at ten o'clock. It's too early," Sharpe observed in annoyance. He shouldn't be surprised. Information had a strange way of getting garbled whenever the Essex was involved, but Richard had been sure this mission was too important for fuck-ups to be allowed to jeopardise it. 

"Footsteps... fading out," Perkins murmured before hissing a warning into the radio connecting the team. "Cooper. The target is moving. Take cover." 

"Stay here, Perkins," Sharpe instructed. "Pat?" he asked of his own equipment. "Where are you?" 

* * *

Alexei couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, like a flicker of improbable movement out of the corner of his eye, but there was nothing he could pin down. If the sensation persisted he was going to ask Olga to back out of the rendezvous. In the meantime, Alex continued on his sweep, planting bombs along the way. 

It wasn't outside the realm of chance that the other side had sent in someone early to look things over as well. Alexei could respect their caution and work around it. What bothered him was that the other guy was so skilled that Alex couldn't catch him at it. 

A creak of metal sent Alex over the railing of a stairway and had him peering upward, but nothing moved. 

* * *

Patrick Harper pulled back, crawling away on hands and knees. When he judged it safe, Harper whispered into the headset he wore. "I've got one male, Caucasian, dark hair, dark clothes. He moves like a pro." 

"Where?" Sharpe's static-roughened voice demanded. 

"East end, north of the crane in the main bay." 

"Don't you spook him, Pat. We need all the players to show up so we can acquire the package," Richard reminded his Sergeant. "This is likely someone's scout." The paused was long. "Backtrack and find out where he came from. I want to know what that ripping tape meant. Mind yerself. Cooper is near you." 

"Aye, Sir." Harper moved carefully, not wanting to either startle Cooper or have the scout make him. His dark eyes scanned all about, looking for a stashed weapon or surveillance equipment. He tried to keep his step light, no easy task for a man his size. Occasionally voices would whisper into his ear. The other members of Essex traded a few words. 

After much searching a bit of silver tape finally caught his eye. "Bomb." Patrick observed aloud for the sake of his comrades. "Just a wee one." Harper squirmed around trying to get a look at the awkwardly placed device. "Radio controlled," he added with only a hint of worry. If their headsets were going to trigger it, he'd be dead already. 

"If it's a small one it's not like to be alone." Sharpe's voice was low grumble. "Heads up all around, lads. This one isn't playing fair." 

"Do they ever?" Harris muttered just loud enough to be heard above the static. 

"You want I should dismantle the thing, Major?" Harper questioned. It didn't look to complex, but rather a quickly put together model. 

"Leave it be, Pat. If our boy takes another walk through and sees it's been mucked with, it'd be a dead giveaway to him that he isn't alone. We'll see about shutting it down if he leaves. Until then keep yer distance from it." 

* * *

Maybe it was just nerves, Alexei decided. More times than he was comfortable with, Alex suspected he wasn't alone. One of the best sniper posts had a hint of something in the air but there was no other evidence that someone was about. 

Alexei's face was set into a constant frown as the time grew nearer to when he was supposed to connect back up with Olga. He chanced the noise and ran flat out through the building on his last turn through the perimeter to see if it made any difference. 

Nothing resulted but a shortage of breath on his part. Finally, he headed out to catch up with his foster sister, still uncertain if he should shut down the meeting due to nothing more than the tickle of anxiety up his spine. 

* * *

Cooper squirmed out from under the piece of machinery he'd dived beneath, a faint prayer on his lips. He had to reach up and readjust his gear. 

"Did anybody see him?" Sharpe's voice demanded of his crew when it was safe to speak aloud once more. "Did he catch sight of any of you?" 

"All I seen was feet." Cooper brushed himself off before finally responding to the demands for information coming through his earpiece. 

"Fast bugger." Harper was puffing, likely in response to some equally awkward hiding spot he'd had to drag himself out of. 

Hagman's chuckle came next. "Yer all lazy." He joked. "I slipped away from the scout without all this bellyaching." 

"Just a black jacket and dark hair, Sir." Harris checked in next. "Tall, I think. Judging by the shadow he cast on the doorframe as he left." 

"Perkins?" Richard asked. 

"I didn't see anything. I just heard it through the mics. Sorry Sir." 

* * *

Esterhaus was a wrinkled old man who surrounded himself with bullyboys the size of mountain gorillas. None of them were terribly bright and that's how the elderly criminal liked it. Clever people did not make good subordinates in his opinion. 

Olga met Esterhaus in the middle of the largest warehouse, leaving Alexei to pace in the shadows behind her, eyes scanning for trouble. The only reason Alex heard the pop of locks on the briefcase was because it was so quiet. Olga was definitely keeping him at a distance on this deal. 

The two dealers shared few words. The contents of the cases were looked over and lids snapped shut in record time. Olga was halfway back to Alexei when gunfire shattered the silence. Esterhaus crumpled to the dusty floor and Olga stumbled, the case skidded forward. 

Without hesitation Alexei skimmed his thumb over the control box he'd been toying with and explosions began to blast all about the building. Dropping the control once it had served its purpose Alexei tore out into the brighter lights. He skidded around catching Olga's waist with one arm and the briefcase with his other hand. Bullets pinged about but the attackers' careful aim had been destroyed as several catwalks caved in and the building shook. 

Heading for one of the escape routes that he knew would be the clearest of debris, Alex found he was supporting far more of Olga's weight than he wanted to. Warmth was soaking into his sleeve. Even more nerve wracking was the fact he didn't have a free hand to wield his gun. More gunfire, at two different levels, suggested that at least one of Esterhaus' gorillas still lived and was attempting to secure the case full of money that the old man had received. 

The door was almost within reach when a gun coughed and wood splintered from a box in front of him. Alex pulled up short, attempting to decide if he should double back to another exit or try to shoot his way out. {Can you stand?} He demanded of his foster sister when she groaned. {Can you carry the case?} 

"Da." Olga hissed and snatched at the handle. {Get us out of here now, Lexi.} 

A curt nod acknowledged her demand. Leaving the briefcase to her care, Alex whipped out two guns and laid down a line of fire. The pair of them made it half way across the narrow distance when Olga collapsed and the case went skating across the floor. A body came flying out from behind shelter and scooped up the package before slamming upright against a wall in plain view of Alexei. Guns were pointed dead on from both sides. 

Time stopped. Every bit of air in Alexei's lungs burned up and he stared across the divide at his lover, Richard Sharpe. Somewhere in the distance Alex half felt Olga using his jacket to drag herself upright behind him. His foster sister was screaming something in his ear. All Alexei wanted to do was stare at the vision before him and marvel. 

"Dickin." The barrels of Alexei's pistols dipped and sound hit him once more. 

{SHOOT HIM! KILL HIM!} Olga was screeching. 

Alex's arms tensed once more. "Give me the case, Dickin." His eyes devoured the man across from him. Richard's chest was heaving and his face was almost bloodless. Normal exertion, the rational part of Alexei's mind decided, but it didn't stop his hyped up body from responding to the familiar scent of Sharpe after a bout of hot, sweaty sex. 

"I can't." Sharpe's head shook. He shot a nervous glance back toward the main warehouse. "The Essex. They're coming." 

"SHOOT HIM AND TAKE IT!" Olga switched to English, attempting to make herself heard. 

"Run, sweet thing. We're not supposed to leave anyone alive." Richard's tone was hurried and nervous. 

Fuck but Alexei wanted to fling himself across the divide and sink his teeth into his golden soldier. Business! His hormones could not be allowed to interfere with business no matter how violent their rampage. "Not without the case." Alexei had to shout to hear himself over Olga's piercing orders. "Give it to me." He stabbed the air with his gun to make his point. 

"No, my Xander." Richard's own gun lowered, trusting recklessly. "If you want it you'll have to kill me." 

{SHOOT HIM, LEXI!} Olga was practically spitting, flipping back into Russian to re-enforce the tone of her command. {Take it from him.} 

"Dickin please. Don't do this." Conflicting loyalties ripped at Alexei. What should have been a curt demand came out as an entreaty. "Give it to me." 

"You can't know what's in here and ask me that." Sharpe's voice was low and pleading. "I can't. It's too important." Pale grey-green eyes pinned Olga and his lip curled. "I know who YOU are," Richard announced. "What you are." He returned his gaze to Alexander. "It's time. Now. Put down your guns, Xander... baby. Lover. We don't have to wait until tomorrow. Let me take you home today. It's time to come in from the cold." 

"Miloserdie." Olga sagged, seeming to have just clued in. "Alexei." She clung. {Little brother. Don't do this.} Her fingers dug in, kneading Alex's muscles. 

Footsteps were pounding closer. 

"I want to, but..." Alexei hesitated, licking his lips. "Will you leave Olga here?" His voice shook. "This was never part of it, Dickin. You can't expect me to give you Olga." 

"Look at her Xander. She needs a doctor. We'll take her into custody." That was a huge concession, considering his orders. 

Olga flinched. "Lexi, liubovnik." Her tone was carefully pitched to hook into his gut. {Don't let him have me.} She knew just where to touch him and exactly how to huff a breath near the shell of his ear. Alexei had spent years worshipping this woman, learning to obey her. She ruled him. {You can't let them have me, baby. They'll kill me. Lexi, lover... precious brother.} Her arms griped him tightly. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Alexei wanted to scream. The choice to leave The Family was supposed to have been made at a safe, sterile distance. He was just going to fall into Sharpe's arms when no one was looking and never leave. He was supposed to provide information, not surrender a living, breathing member of his Family. Alexei had tried to explain how intense the bonding was between himself and the women. Richard couldn't seem to understand but he had promised that Alex would never have to look any of the women in the eye after the defection. 

Olga wasn't to be sacrificed. Olga was to be cherished... protected. She was more important than any mission, more important than his own life. Alexei was charged with seeing to the safety of Nicola's Romanov's chosen heir. 

"I'll find you tomorrow." Fuck, it hurt. It hurt more than anything had in years. It devastated Alexei to have to turn away now but his programming would not allow the sacrifice of Olga, not like this. His entire psyche would self-destruct if he allowed her to be taken. Jamming his guns back into their holsters, Alex scooped his foster sister up into his arms and hit the exit running. 

* * *

Richard leaned back in his chair and looked at his watch yet again. He shouldn't be surprised. Alexander wasn't coming. Hours had passed since the time they were supposed to meet. Sharpe had gone through an entire bottle of wine, one glass at a time, and a basket of bread. The waiters would have been demanding he'd leave if he weren't tipping so outrageously with each small glass. 

Fuck. He should have switched to rum an hour ago. Maybe his gut wouldn't be aching this badly if he had. 

Sharpe had to believe this was just yet another delay. He'd go back to London and sometime in the next week Alexander would crawl into his bed when he was least expected to and wake him with sweet kisses. The Lord knew his Xander had done just that often enough in the past. It had become a rather regular thing over the time since Jane had been killed. 

The first time Richard had awoke to find the Russian stark naked and curled up around him had been disturbing. Sharpe couldn't help but fear that his edge was blunted to allow that kind of intrusion into his home without notice but several weeks later a prowler had proved that idea wrong. It was as if his sleeping mind could tell the difference between his lover and any other odd noises that disturbed the night. The invasion of that thief had jolted Richard out of sleep and had him grabbing after his gun before he was completely awake, and yet not three days later it wasn't until he was at the edge of orgasm that the sensation of Alex's mouth on his erection penetrated Sharpe's slumber. 

Richard tossed down yet another bill and heaved himself upright. He'd go home, send a message to the post office box he and Alexander corresponded through then wait. His lover would likely be along in a week or so to tease him about his grim fears and coax a smile back onto his face. Sharpe had to believe that, because otherwise he'd never be able to drag himself out of this café. 

* * *

{My dear boy.} Nicola Romanov walked a circle around where her foster son was bound to a chair. Pale skin was marked with goose bumps. A cold breeze wafted over his nude body. {As much as I'm pleased that you saw fit to secure Olga's safety...} Her hand petted down his dark hair, softly at first, then nails began to dig into his scalp. {I'm rather cross that you lost those papers I sent you to purchase, as well as the money we collected to pay Esterhaus. Producing that much cash on such sort notice was exhausting.} 

He shouldn't have allowed the doctor that he'd taken Olga to, the opportunity to speak to Nicola on the telephone. He should have left as soon as he was certain his foster sister was secure and under care. How could he have been so foolish as to turn his back on the doctor? Alexei's mind spun with the force of second-guessing himself. 

Olga had spoken his name, whispering urgently just as the doctor had hung up the telephone. He had leaned over in an effort to hear the words. Alex hadn't suspected the harmless looking man was capable of violence, he'd been wary of a syringe full of drugs, but not of the hard slam he'd received to the back of his head. 

{I find it bothersome that I had to drop everything I was doing and arrange to have you and Olga brought home. I dislike dealing with trivialities like this when other, more pressing, business demands my attention.} Nicola fingered the swollen bump on his skull. {What annoys me the most, however, is the realization that you were considering leaving our Family... leaving me.} Her fingers threaded into his hair once more, gripping and dragging his head backwards. Nicki placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, a stark contrast to the pain shooting up his neck. 

{Olga misunderstood.} Alexei argued frantically. {I'm playing the man, keeping a line into British command. I had to waver to at the warehouse hold that cover. You know I would never consider leaving you Nicki.} His tone was growing desperate as she continued to glare, unmoved by his explanations. "Ya tebya tak lyublyu," he declared. {You're my life. I meant to tell you about the Brit but it didn't seem important enough to bother you.} His voice strangled. 

The elderly woman frowned down at him, her expression icy with disgust. 

{Please Nicki. I would never betray you. He's nothing.} The tape wrapped around his arms and legs twisted, pulling out body hair and digging into his skin but it held Alex tight. "Pazhaluysta Nicola. Ya tebya lyublyu." He was starting to panic. {It's a mistake. I love you so much. More than anything. I swear.} 

{And you compound your sin by lying.} Nicola's carefully painted lips pulled back into a snarl. She shoved his head to one side and drew back. {I'm going to have to hurt you, Alexei.} The elderly woman drew a wheeled trolley up beside the bound man. {I'm going to have to hurt you more than I have needed to in years,} she warned him. {I hope you realise that the only reason you're still alive is because Olga is.} 

Alexei strained even harder at the bindings on his arms and legs when he saw the things heaped on the cart. A car battery and clamps topped the pile. {Nicki, my love, my dearest, my life. I can explain everything.} 

{Silence!} Nicola snapped. She picked up the first of the alligator clips. Leaning over, Nicola clamped it to his right earlobe. Tiny droplets of blood beaded up around the sharp teeth of the clip. 

He flinched but kept quiet. His eyes were wide, following the movements of his mentor's hands. When Nicki lifted the second clip a sweat broke out all over his body despite the cold air. 

{Now...} Nicola held up the rubber-handled claw, studying it. {You're going to tell me everything about your relationship with this Englishman, Lexi dear.} The bit of metal hovered near his left nipple. {What did you say his name was?} 

Staring down at the tools and sweating, he had to lick his lips twice before making them function. "Sharpe." As soon as Alexei voiced the word, a sizzle of electricity shot through him, making his whole body spasm. 

{I didn't catch that, Lexi,} she lied smoothly. {Say his name again. Louder.} Nicola smiled sweetly. 

"SHARPE!" 

As expected, another cruel spike of electricity lashed through him. 

{You call your lover by his last name. How odd.} Nicki touched his swollen nipple and he flinched violently. {His whole name, Pet. I want you to keep repeating his entire name, over and over again, until I give you permission to stop.} 

Alexei's head shook, earning him a slap across the face. 

{DO IT!} 

"Richard Sharpe." The shock that lashed through him clamped his teeth closed. 

{Keep saying it, Pet,} Nicola reminded him. {Or I'll clip this to your balls.} 

That threat shouldn't have worked. Alexei knew she was going to end up doing just that any way. Still, for the sake of delay he caved. Thirty minutes latter his voice was hoarse and he'd fallen into screaming 'Richard' continuously. The punishment didn't relent however until 'Dickin' was torn out of his throat. 

{He's not coming to save you,} Nicola said, tracing her fingers over her pupil's skin. She absently connected the many bright red blisters on his chest and stomach. {Your precious Dickin, is back home basking in the glory of ruining our deal and sleeping with some big-chested barmaid right now.} 

Hearing these words, Alexei's whole body shook violently. He couldn't catch his breath. The scenario Nicki suggested wasn't unlikely. Alex knew there were women in Richard's bed during the stretches between their trysts. 

Nicola's tongue made a disapproving, clicking noise. {What has he promised you, Pet? Immunity? A cottage with a white picket fence in the North country? That he'll love you forever and ever? Oh please. How absurd.} Her nails sketched over his skin. {He's lying. Men always lie. I've told you that. It's what they do. The British government would pump you dry while the Major screws you stupid and then once everyone is satisfied they'll toss you out with the garbage. Or is that what you want, my pretty pet? You want to wait in a cold apartment while your dear Dickin has dinner with the wife and kiddies... wait until he gets bored enough with her soft cushy skin so he'll come spend the night with you... and then leave before sunrise so he can get home in time for breakfast. It's sounds like a wonderful life. I can see why you'd want to leave us for a chance at that,} she murmured softly in his ear. 

{He's not like...} 

Nicki didn't allow Alexei to finish the sentence. She stroked the hot metal clamp up the inside of her student's leg, making the muscle jump in reaction. {Don't be stupid. It disgusts me that you could be so foolish.} Nicola's tone was brittle. {I thought you were better than this. I thought you were worth my time.} She straightened up. 

The second shelf of the trolley held a tape player. After turning the volume up to it's highest level, Nicki sat it down and pushed the play button. 

"Bonjour mon amoureux d'or. How is my favourite bed-warmer feeling today?" 

Alexei heard his own voice, filtered through the tinny whir of wiretapped conversation 

"Xander, Precious. Where are you, Sweet thing? " 

Alex's heart squeezed as Sharpe spoke. He barely noticed that Olga had joined them in the room. His eldest foster sister spoke with Nicola, but the tape of himself and Sharpe, exchanging playful greetings and verbally flirting, overpowered Nicki and Olga's words. 

"I can't. Not now I've heard your voice, Sweet thing. Talk to me for a little while. It doesn't matter what you say, Baby. Make up a bedtime story for all I care." 

What did penetrate, dragging Alexei back from his dream world, was Olga coming over, yanking the clamp free his ear and picking up the dangling positive lead from the battery. She then walked around the back of Alex's chair and heaved, making the thing fall over. It creaked at the abuse but it didn't break. 

Stepping back over to the trolley Olga picked up a short leather strap. She positioned herself at Alexei's exposed feet, and then slammed hard into the sole of his right foot as soon as Sharpe's voice blared out again. 

"Sweet thing. Don't tease. You're too far away. It's not fair for you to get me going." 

The blow stung, but it didn't hurt too badly. The strikes kept coming, however. Each time the Englishman's voice emerged from the speaker Alex's skin was lashed. 

"Shite, I miss you." 

By the end of the tape both of Alexei's feet were burning and he was pleading with her to stop, to give him some water, or even to just speak to him. She ignored him completely. When Olga turned the audiotape over and the same conversation began again Alex started to cry. 

* * *

"Major?" Patrick Harper paused in the archway. The living room was cloaked in gloom and it stunk of uneaten food and booze. "Richard?" Ramona, his wife, could just been seen peeking around his large frame. "There's people worried about you, Major." 

"Go 'way, Pat." Sharpe snapped. Tipping the bottle in his hand to feel the slosh of rum, Richard decided he was going to have to drag himself off the couch and over to the bar soon. 

"We called 'afor we came over." Harper inclined his head towards where the telephone lay in the middle of the floor. The thing had been ripped out of the wall. "But it appears as if you're having trouble hearing it ring." 

"It rang." He grumbled. "It's been ringing all the bleeding time... but it's never him. He's never gonna call again." Finishing the rum in one deep swig, Richard tossed the now empty bottle against the wall. Neither the smash of heavy glass nor Ramona's distressed squeak were satisfying. "I've killed him. 'E tried ter warn me, but I didn't listen. 'E's dead Pat." 

"You don't know that." 

"I don't know nothing. I never did. I'm a bloody idiot." Sharpe laid his head back and groaned. "It's all going down the pisser. I'm gonna drag down you with me. " His accent was dropping closer to his gutter level speech patterns with every sentence he spoke. It was just too fucking difficult to make the effort at suppressing the rough accent. 

"Heap o' garbage." Patrick argued. "I still don't know what was in that bleeding briefcase we nabbed in Switzerland, Major, but just saying your name is enough to make the Commander grin like a fool this week." 

Richard's laugh was nearly a bark. "Now's the time to grab your laurels and get the fuck out, Pat. You and the lads. All of yer. You should ask fer yer own team... or see if Interpol is hiring." He stared at the ceiling, wondering how it had gotten stained. "I'm gonna ask that the Essex be disbanded." 

Speaking over his shoulder, Patrick said, "Put on a pot of tea, Darlin." 

Ramona bustled through and the light flicked on in the kitchen. 

"Give me another bottle, Pat," Sharpe slurred. "There's still a coupla full 'uns behind the bar." 

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" Harper paced over the sofa. "Yer gonna take a bloody shower. Yer gonna get dressed in something that doesn't stink of booze. Yer gonna drink the tea and eat the toast me wife is making you..." he listed. "Then yer gonna get yer ass in gear and grab the honours Command is willing to dish out before they change their minds." 

Thin lips curled up. "Ya think so?" 

"Damned straight." Patrick reached down and grabbed Richard's arm. "Because I expect that if you don't, I'll see you buried beside Teresa before the year is out." 

"Xander's likely in a river somewhere. No grave for him." Sharpe attempted to shake off the touch, hollering into the other man's face. "And it's all my fault." 

"You don't know he's dead and the only fucking way you've got of finding out is yer bloody position... so get off yer ass and grab onto yer job with both hands before they take it away from you." The larger man shook Sharpe violently. 

Two seconds later Richard was on his knees, barfing up what appeared to be a bucket full of reeking alcohol. 

Harper's wide hand rubbed up and down his back even as his stomach heaved. "It's going to be alright, Major. You'll see. It'll look better when yer sober." 

Even piss drunk, Richard knew a lie when he heard one. 

* * *

It felt like forever since they'd let him sleep. Some kind of pain jolted him back to an even greater agony whenever he dared to doze off. Sometimes it was Olga but most of the time Nicola lorded over him. She hardly ever yelled. Alexei almost would have preferred that to the insistent, disappointed, annoyed drone. 

Strange, it wasn't pain that brought Alexei around this time, but rather the rich aroma of chicken broth. His tight stomach rumbled. That was the only request he thought he could make. His voice had ground down to a wheezing whisper some time ago. 

{Hungry, Boy?} Nicola held the cup under his nose for a moment before backing away. Quite purposefully she tipped it up and poured the broth out onto the floor. {Still want it?} One silvered brow lifted and she directed her gaze from Alexei's face, down to the floor, and back up. 

A faint whimper escaped him and Alexei gave as much of a nod as his aching head would allow. 

Nicola picked up a scalpel from the nearby pile of toys and knelt to free her foster son from the low gurney he had found himself fastened to three blackouts ago. The tape that held him down parted under the blade but Alexei's wrists remained bound together. Nicki backed away to watch his next move. 

He rolled, practically falling of the cot and onto the floor. The rough floor gouged at his elbows but Alexei was so thirsty he was willing to do anything for a bit of moisture. He dragged himself over, careless of the blood trail he was leaving, and lapped at the gritty puddle. 

{It bothers me when you forget your place.} Nicola paced over to stand beside him. {It's not that I want to hurt you, Pet. You pushed me into this.} 

Alexei couldn't apologize aloud. His throat was ruined. Regretfully lifting his mouth from the precious moisture, he pressed cracked lips to her shoe. 

{If you can manage to get there...} Nicki began. {I will allow you into my suite.} That said, the old woman walked out, leaving the door open behind her. 

* * *

Eyes closed, Alexei idly wondered if they would have left him alone until his body gave out or if someone would have granted him the mercy of a bullet. There had been several times when he would have welcomed an end to his life during the excruciating crawl to Nicola's door. 

There had been no clemency. Getting up the stairs and halfway down the hall hadn't been enough. It wasn't until Alexei was lying at the entrance to her suite that Nicola had allowed the servants to swoop in and help him. Even then, the aid had been more to spare her expensive carpeting, than for his comfort. There was no way Nicki wanted him in her apartment stinking of blood, urine, and terror. 

Alexei barely recalled the bath they had given him, other than at one point someone had dissuaded him from drinking the soapy water by feeding him a large bowl of mutton and vegetable soup one spoonful at a time. 

The sheet shifted and dragged at his abused back. He vaguely recalled seeing the cane in Nicki's hand somewhere in the endlessness of his torment. It had terrified him when he realised that there was blood dripping off the thing. That Nicola had been willing to leave marks behind suggested that he was no longer useful. 

The door opened, pulling Alexei out of his grim memories. Mama Uritski slipped into the room carrying a bed tray. She sat it down on the foot of the bed then bustled about opening curtains to let the watery sunlight in. 

{Nothing too heavy I hope.} Nicki pushed away the sheet, to reveal that she was as bare as her student, and slowly drew herself up into a sitting position beside Alexei. {Our darling's stomach is rather sensitive right now.} 

He remained on his belly but Alexei's head turned her way, honing in on Nicola's voice as if drawn by a magnet. Noticing his mentor's nudity, he began to tremble. 

Mama Uritski smiled blandly. {No, my lady. I was careful.} She assured the other woman without reproach, as if she hadn't been catering to Alexei since he arrived into the Family's less-than-gentle care over ten years ago. 

Nicola stretched, shifted, and then peeled away the sheet from her student's body. She gazed down at the damage she had inflicted. {It's not so bad.} An open jar of salve sat ready on the nightstand. 

When Nicki's cool, thin fingers began to spread the aromatic gel over his cuts Alexei sighed, practically melting under the attention. 

"Moi negodyaj." Nicola went so far as to climb to her knees and straddle her young apprentice. {My poor, pretty pet.} She leaned to place a dry kiss on a bit of his less damaged skin. {My best boy. My only boy.} She continued to stroke him. 

{I love you, Nicki.} Alexei vowed, delighting in the feel of her papery, dry skin against his. 

{I know, pretty one. I love you too.} The ministrations were closer to petting strokes than anything else. {You make me cross sometimes but you're my dear boy and I love you.} Her slight frame shifted off and back beside him. Nicola picked up a damp towel and wiped her hands. {Can my pet sit up?} 

It didn't matter if it hurt. Alexei forced himself to push upright and face his foster mother. 

{What a good boy you are.} Nicola praised. She waited until the servant skittered over to move the tray within easy reach before extending a hand to lift one of the elegant silver domes from the plates. Cubes of thick, warm bread glistening with honey were uncovered. 

Alexei's breath caught. The next revelation added to his excitement. Chunks of melon and fruit lay on that circle of china, all chopped into bite-sized pieces. Finger food. He watched avidly as Nicki picked up a morsel and brought it to his lips. 

{Open your mouth, my darling.} 

Nicola was feeding him. That was something she hadn't done in years. She allowed him to lick the traces of honey from her fingertips. The indulgence made him whimper and strain towards her. He was suddenly so hard it hurt. His pulse rate kicked into triple time. 

They were both nude, in Nicola's bed, and she was feeding him. Alexei shivered. She was going to let him touch her this morning. 

Alexei stared at the milk white skin marked with blue veins that stretched tight down her throat. Nicki had to tap his chin to catch his attention. 

{Breath. Eat,} she reminded him. A strawberry was pressed to his lips. {If my darling is good enough and eats all his breakfast...} the promise was left hanging. 

{You'll let me taste you?} 

Nicki's thin lips pursed at his enthusiasm, and then curved into a smile. {Maybe more.} She pressed another chunk of delectable bread on him. 

It was hard to make himself eat. His mouth had dried out. His gaze dared to lower, taking in the sight of the first woman he'd ever laid hands on, ever lay down with. The light didn't flatter the elderly woman but what Alexei saw was filtered through years of worship. 

{Eat my darling,} Nicola coaxed. "Moi komnatnoe." A frail hand brushed his cheek. {My baby boy.} The pause was a purposeful tease. "Moi syn." 

Son. The moan Alexei let out was dragged up from the darkest, most remote part of his soul. "Mama" His voice was a faint whisper. Alexei couldn't hold himself in check. He pressed close, burying his face against the elegant line of Nicola's throat, almost crying. "Mat, pazhaluysta." The tremors that wracked him were impossible to contain. 

{There, there... my darling boy. Only if you promise to eat afterwards.} Her fingers carded through thick dark hair. Nicola's directed him subtly. 

Alexei had to bite back a cry of protest as the object of his worship began to move away but, gratefully, it was only to recline next to him. Nicola was pulling him down with her. He stretched out slightly above Nicki but remained on his hands and torn knees. {Please.} He begged again. 

{You may.} 

The permission rocked him to the core. With excruciating care Alexei traced his lips across her sharp collarbones, and then down to capture a soft, rose coloured nipple. Nicola allowed him to suckle at first one, and then longer at the other, before urging him off her breast and back up. His kisses were hesitant, over the corners of her mouth and across her cheeks. 

{It's all right, Baby.} Nicki guided his face with one hand while the other one eased down between them. 

At the same time Alexei fell into an open-mouthed kiss with her, Nicola stroked his straining erection. The young man practically screamed into her mouth and his whole body shuddered violently with an unexpected orgasm. 

Nicola broke the kiss to touch her tongue to his skin, tasting his tears. 

{I'm sorry, Nicki. I'm so sorry.} Alex sobbed. 

{Hush, Darling. It's all right,} she soothed. {My boy is young and strong. Warm me up, Precious. I need more time with my baby boy to get going. I can wait.} Nicola lay back on the soft mattress, pressing gently at the top of his head. 

{I love you so much... Mama.} Just saying the not-quite forbidden word sent a rush of blood back down to his groin. 

{I know, Darling, but show me anyway.} 

* * *

Alexei didn't like how much attention was turned on him right now. One of the Catherines, Riene, was fussing over his tie and murmuring about how handsome he looked, even in such a disgustingly cheap suit. Another of girls, perhaps Kate, stood behind him checking out the way the fabric was lying over his shoulders and back to see if the bandages were obvious. Olga and Nicola were discussing him in muted tones near the door. Mama Uritski's son stood ready to drive him to the airport. It was suffocating to have so many people hovering about after spending last few days with Nicola. 

Nicki glided over, shooing away the two girls. When the old woman stopped before him Alexei immediately dropped to his badly bruised knees. He looked up at her hopefully and earned a gentle touch on his hair. Permission. Alexei leaned forward, resting the side of his face against her stomach. 

{Olga isn't certain we should send you back to America so soon.} Nicola petted him. {She is concerned that you're too fragile right now. What do you think, Pet? Would you rather stay here with me?} 

Alexei's hands lifted to rest on her narrow hips. He wanted to bunch his fingers into the cloth of her dress and hang on but Nicki would be irritated if he crumpled the fabric. "Da, pazhaluysta." Alex begged. {Don't send me away, Nicki. Not yet. Just another few days. I need you so much.} 

A thin finger touched his chin, tipping it up. "Moi mladenets." 

She smiled at him. Nicola smiled at him and his heart ached. {May I stay then?} He was forgiven, really and truly forgiven. The thought warmed him from his core on out. 

"Nyet, moi malchik nebol'shoj." Her denial was firm, yet without malice. {You've a plane to catch.} Her hand caressed his cheek. {But not because I'm trying to punish you any further. You have work to do. What I want is for you to do well on this assignment.} Nicola's thumb brushed across his lower lip. He kissed at it, desperate to prove his devotion. {And if my pretty pet is a complete professional and impresses these Americans... then I will come over to the States for a quick visit after you graduate Quantico and you can show me around.} 

{Perhaps he'd rather meet you in England.} Olga's voice was near a snarl. {That seems to be his favourite vacation spot recently.} 

Alexei couldn't contain the flinch even naming that country caused in him. His stomach tightened up and he wanted to vomit. 

{Ah yes.} Nicola's fingers spread, measuring the reactions in the muscle of his jaw. {Olga is still concerned about your affection for Major Sharpe.} 

A whimper escaped him. Phantom pain lanced from his right ear down to his balls at hearing that name and he had to actively fight the urge to double over or curl up into a fetal ball. 

{I want that English bastard dead.} Olga demanded from her place near the wall. {I want it done immediately.} 

{That could be arranged. We will discuss later, Olga.} Nicki continued to stare down at her student. {Whom should I commission to do the job, Lexi?} 

{Whomever Olga chooses,} he whispered. {I don't care. I don't want to know. I never want to think about him again.} 

Nicola's hand exerted pressure, indicating he should stand. {Go to Olga, Pet.} Thin fingers flicked in the younger woman's direction. 

He crossed the room, watching his feet and not daring to look his foster sister in the eyes. It hurt. Every step hurt the soles of his feet, which were still raw from the leather strap Nicola had used on them. His back burned despite the salve and cotton protecting it. Coming to a halt in front of Olga, Alexei stood, awaiting orders. 

{Not a mark shows. You do lovely work, Nicola.} The compliment was sincerely voiced. {Still, it will be a long flight and he doesn't report in right away,} Olga observed. {Lift your face, Lexi.} Olga was no wilting flower to settle for a hard, open-handed slap. Her fist balled up and she jabbed Alexei just to the left of his nose. {Do you know why I just hit you, little brother?} The demand came as soon as he finished reeling from the blow. 

{Because I deserved it.} Alex's response was a bare whisper. 

{Partially.} Olga caught his chin. {But mostly, because I wanted to and because I can.} She laughed. {Do you want a kiss good-bye, Lexi?} 

{Please.} He couldn't nod. He was too dizzy. 

{Too bad.} Olga sneered and walked away from him. {Because that's something you don't deserve.} 

Alexei had to bite his lip to stifle a whimper. His fingers spasmed into a fist to contain the urge to reach for her. Pleading never worked with Olga. It only made her angry. 

{Riene. Ride in the back of the car with Alexei to the airport,} Nicola ordered. {See to it he's 'settled' and tidy before he gets out of the car.} She paced over to her foster son's side. The back of her hand brushed at the tears in the corner of his eyes. {Now, now. No crying, my pet. If you want Olga to forgive you then you'll simply have to work harder to prove yourself,} the elderly woman informed him. {Marie will check on you in two weeks. If all goes well I will join you in America when your training is completed. How long I stay with you will depend entirely on how well you perform in this task.} Nicola kissed him, right where Olga had struck. {You will phone home every evening until Marie has a chance to check on you. We will then reconsider how long your leash will be.} 

"Spasibo, Nicki." Alexei murmured. {I love you, Nicki.} 

{I know, Dear.} She kissed his cheek and waved him on his way. 

That's all. Milk and cookies time. 

* * *

Title: Conflict of interest   
Author: Carla Jane   
Address: [email removed]   
Rating: It was going to be R... oops, it's NC17 after all Slash & general m/m & m/f sexual relationships major Alex torture   
Date: November 2000   
Summary: This is what happened in Switzerland and afterwards. An X-files/Sharpe crossover pairing Alex Krycek and a VERY 'alternate universe' version of Richard Sharpe. This is the eighth and final story in my series 'Sharpe's Scoundrel'. I'm afraid it's not going to make perfect sense unless you've a rough idea of what's already happened between Dickin and Xander. The previous tales are archived on my homepage at: http://members.dencity.com/CarlaJane/homepage.html For more on Sharpe/Krycek you will have to wait the next mainline 'Scoundrels' story   
It is now early in 1992. Sharpe is a still a Major of a British black-ops squad called 'the Essex'. Krycek is member of a Russian mafia family, the Romanovs. Since the last story Sharpe has set up a deal with the British government that will allow Alex to turn crown's evidence and come clean.   
Disclaimers: Bernard Cornwell, Chris Carter, Fox, and the various actors, writers and production companies own these toys.  
Beta readers, I dearly love my beta readers. I've been gifted with the joy of watching Erika mature into a confident and through beta reader, as well as an author in her own right since I've first started exchanging notes with her. Lorelei is to be thanked for turning this tale from a good piece into something I've even more proud of. She campaigned for extra scenes of Alexei and his Family and convinced me to jack this baby from PG up to NC17.   
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